


If I Could Be Anything...

by chiqelata



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (Not between Geralt and Jaskier), Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Instincts, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Height Differences, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Making Love, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sexual Abuse, Soulmates, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Touch-Starved Jaskier | Dandelion, Virgin Jaskier | Dandelion, Young Jaskier | Dandelion, equine therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24676354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiqelata/pseuds/chiqelata
Summary: Every living thing that exists is born with half a soul. Their souls are divided in two before they come to life and placed in different bodies. That's why they're called soulmates. They are like two halves of an apple, only to form the perfect integrity when they come together.For some, soulmates were just a belief.For witchers, it's an impossible story to happen....Jaskier had just been born when he was taken from the arms of his mother, Marilla. He was five when he first met his soulmate, twelve when he was presented as an omega and fifteen when he was kidnapped by Henrick Omar Rholdian as a hostage for his family's unpaid depts.Although he believed in soulmates, he knew he would never have such a rare gift. He was completely alone in this cruel world he fell into....Until an alpha witcher awakens his broken soul with his unique scent and gives him a little glimmer of hope...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 126
Kudos: 465





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> While this was supposed to be a short prologue, it reached 4,000 words... I hope it still counts as a prologue. After this chapter, the main story begins. I plan each chapter to consist of approximately 4,000 to 8,000 words. I hope that's appropriate for you too guys. Please don't forget to look at the end of the chapter for more notes. 
> 
> Welcome and have a good read!

Jaskier had just been born when he was taken from the arms of his mother, Marilla.

***

The viscountess of Lettenhove was infertile. No one knew about this but herself, her husband and the healer who only came for routine checks. It was essential for her to find a solution. Despite centuries of racism, war and many disasters, the Pankratz family managed to continue their lineage and held the lands of Lettenhove. People loved the family, everyone was happy with their ruling, their names remembered with respect and love everywhere.

Now that Caroline Mary De Lettenhove failing to bring a worthy heir to the Pankratz family, it was only a matter of time before their centuries old history crumbled or even worse, _destroyed_. She couldn't have let something like that to happen. The baby must be a _male_ , and his second gender also must be an alpha or at worst, a beta. The omegas could not own land unless they came from a noble family, and even if they did, they could not assert much rights in ruling unfortunately, as per the rules rooted out before the history itself.

She had to do something.

 _She had to do something immediately_.

***

Caroline Mary de Lettenhove was never loved by her husband.

They respected and valued each other, and there was a tiny bit of affection between them, but there was no love. None. Not even a crumble. They were both making an admirable effort to keep the family line afloat, but this didn’t go beyond bringing them to the breaking point a little more each time. At first, she tried to love her husband. She tried to understand, to get to know him better, but the viscount never responded to her sincerity in the same way. Alfred, the viscount de Lettenhove, was a tough, slightly intimading man on the outside. Although people respected him greatly, everyone would think once more before they approached him.

However, Caroline had seen the warm, loving smile that appeared behind the closed doors, his gentle brown eyes, his voice that could come out as sweet as honey. But they were never directed towards her. All the viscount's love and interest was for a young omega woman, who worked in the kitchen. Caroline soon learned her name. _Marilla_. She was a beautiful, sweet woman with chocolate-colored brown hair with thick waves and eyes as light as a cloudless sky. She had a warm side that was always affectionate, and a big smile that never missed on her tender face. Caroline instantly hated her.

She had Alfred wrapped around her finger so easily that Caroline hated the woman as much as she envied her. What could Marilla do that she couldn't? Caroline came from a noble family, she was an alpha, she was educated in a fine place, and had great court manners. Marilla, however, was a simple peasant, an omega, neither educated nor aware of court manners. But every time Alfred saw her, he was drawn to her as if he had no control over his own body.

It didn't take Caroline long to figure out what happened between them.

 _They were soulmates_.

She understood that exactly a year after she married with Alfred. And now, much to her horror Marilla was pregnant, and Caroline had to get her hands on the matter before the rumors flew around Lettenhove. If a single word got out that Alfred had an illegitimate child, it would not only tarnish the family's past, it would also trample Caroline's last remaining pride into pieces.

So she waited quietly until the birth. During the time, when she told Alfred what to do for their heritage, for their future, her husband suprisingly didn’t oppose her decision for the first time. He knew far better than her that if he chose his soulmate, he would forever tarnish his family's name with a nasty scandal. Although Caroline carried the family's surname, ultimately it was Alfred who carry their blood. The existence of an illegitimate child was unacceptable. Besides, Marilla was an omega. This was driving things to a worse and more impenetrable corner, making the scandal thoroughly ugly.

On the other hand, with Marilla finally getting out of the way, Caroline could try to get things going, starting from somewhere. When she put her head on the pillow evey night, it was the only grace she wanted from the God; _to be able to win Alfred's love_.

***

The birth, which had been kept secret for nine months, also took place in a makeshift hut in a small town outside the borders of Lettenhove. Marilla had been in labor for hours, her body drenched in sweat and her face was wet with endless tears. But in spite of all the pain she suffered, the moment she held her son, she placed a loving, heartfelt smile on her face.

The boy was healthy, having informed everyone that he had come into the world as soon as he emerged from his mother's womb, with screams brimming from his tiny lungs. He had a staggering amount of hair on the top of his head for a newborn baby, his cheeks were slightly redder than his body, and his body was slightly smaller compared to normal babies. But it wasn't an important detail, Caroline was going to take care of everything.

"Jaskier," the woman stroked the tiny, delicate head lovingly, touching her baby's small nose with her fingers. ‘‘My sweet baby, welcome to my world. You have no idea how long I've waited to hold you in my arms.’’

The baby put an end to his tearful fluttering, making a high-pitched sound that showed he’s hearing his mother and sucked the tip of her nose that touched him. Marilla giggled, her sweet affection made Caroline's heart ache. A little away from them, Alfred standing quietly and the moment she saw his lovingly smile towards the duo, Caroline’s heart split in two and shattered.

It hurts her to know that she would never have such a bond. Not being able to taste unconditional love, not knowing what it looks like, learning that you can never be a mother... Each sinking into her heart like pieces of shrapnel, crumbling her walls.

Thickening her voice as she watched the them, she tried to hide her fragility and called out to the two escorts that waiting behind her.

‘‘Take the baby away from his mother.’’

Marilla's eyes grew wide in horror.

‘'What-No! No, my lady, please!" She pressed the baby to her chest, and despite crying for hours, her desperate gaze turned to Alfred as the tears once again bore through the woman's eyes. ‘‘Please don't take her. I won't tell anyone, I won't ever step foot in Lettenhove again, but please don't take him away from me. Please. Don't do this to me. Alfred- _Alpha, please!’’_

Alfred's gentle smile was instantly wiped away from his face like a cold winter wind, and he stared at Marilla for the last time, clenching his jaw hard not to speak. Then as he walked out of the cabin without a word, Marilla screamed.

"Alfred! You can't do this! _Please!’’_

The woman's eyes that filled with tears turned to Caroline once again. The baby began to cry again as she felt her mother's discomfort and held on to the woman tightly with his little hands. Although the omegas are known as calm, peaceful and loving beings, they can be just as predatory when their family is threatened. But Marilla had become quite frail after the birth, her arms trembling like leafs, floated through the air as she pressed the baby to her chest. When the two escorts she brought with her took the baby from Marilla's arms without difficulty, the young woman burst into sobs and began to beg, as she clinging to the skirt of her dress.

‘‘My lady. My lady, please don't take my son away from me. I'll do whatever you want, please, give him back to me. Please. _Jaskier-"_

‘’His name is no longer Jaskier." Caroline said in a solid voice that indicated she did not heed the woman's pleas. ‘’From now on, his name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. You'll never see him again, Marilla. If you dare to step a foot in Lettenhove, you will be sentenced to death.’’

***

Two months later, Marilla wrote a poem for his lost son. Her entire soul was in pain, grief and anguish. With nobody on her side to support, she was dying inside. Slowly fading away, like the last sun rays of the twilight.

_Colors of dark grey and black fill the world in which I live No other feeling could possibly be worse than this_  
_Where once was a room filled with laughter and cheer_  
_Now stands loneliness, emptiness, and despair._

_Memories of you seem to creep around the corners of my mind_  
_Endless haunting images of your face that won't decline_  
_An overwhelming of emotion that my body can't contain_  
_Fills my soul with unbearable grief, sorrow, and pain_

_Oh, how I long to hold you in my arms just once more_  
_And tell you that things will be again, as they were before_  
_But, as reality sinks in, I know that will never be_  
_For the choices that I've made in my life have sealed our destiny_

_No one could ever fathom how wretchedly my heart aches_  
_And how I greatly regret that you've had to pay for my mistakes_  
_If I could go back in time, and change only one wrong that I've done_  
_I'd go back to the hour, to the second, on the day I lost you._  
_My Son._

***

It was the middle of summer when Geralt arrived in Lettenhove.

It was a hot and suffocating day. He had to gather his hair-which he usually collected in half- this time to form a full ponytail. At least he could feel the warm breeze that made him feel close to the sea, the salty smell of water all over his nose. He could have washed up a bit in the sea after he finished this job.

‘‘Come this way please, master witcher.’’

The maid, trying to keep her fearful gaze down, led him to the viscount's room, where he had been summoned for his service. Geralt looked through the mansion. Since arriving at Kerack, he has heard of monster attacks that have reached his ear, and he hasn’t stopped until he reaches the source of it. He needed coin as usual, trying to kill a monsters during one of the hottest summer months ever, it could sometimes become annoying even for him. He deserved a good, cold ale. From what he understood from the situation of the manor, the people here were rich, they could pay him well in return for his service.

Maybe with the money he got when he finished his work here, he'd stop by one of the brothels. The last time he slept with someone was even older than drinking a good ale. He could feel the stress accumulated on him, his skin stretched like a bow above his muscles, his thick veins evident more then ever.

When the maid brought him in front of an old wooden door made of walnut, Geralt heard the sounds coming from behind the door. Then he picked up an unexpected smell. The smell was so familiar that it somehow managed to hurt his heart.

_Fresh out of the oven, hot, vanilla cookies that dipped in some honey._

The smell belonged to his dusty past before he even trained to be a witcher and it was nearly seventy years ago. Geralt frowned, the fragrance bore the essences of his favorite dessert when he was a child, when Visenna still was his mother and occasionally made sweets for him.

Geralt reluctantly licked his lips. As the door finally opened and confronted him with the owner of the scent, the witcher's eyebrows were furrowed a little more. There was a man, in his late thirties sitting behind a large desk. He was an average alpha, with short auburn hair, broad shoulders and a stiff, distinctive musk scent that announcing he was an alpha.

Geralt's eyes landed on the little baby who cradled in the viscount's arms. The baby probably had to be one or two years old, he was so small that Geralt could easily hurt him with a flicker of his finger. The top of his head surrounded by thick brown curls that curled towards the sides of his cheeks. His eyes were huge, framed by long lashes, and cast shadows on his soft looking rosy cheeks.

When the viscount noticed him, he got up from his seat and approached him with a fearlessness that Geralt rarely encounters in humans. The baby also noticed his presence, turning his big, innocent gaze at him. He slobbered his little hand into his mouth to scratch his teeth, then giggled cheerfully, exposing his two small teeth that stood on top. He opened his tiny arms that indicated he wanted to held by witcher, Geralt staggered backwards instanly at that, as if a sword had been pointed at him.

"Pwetty."The baby said in a soft, adorable fleeing voice. Geralt's eyes grew large with wonder. The viscount shook his head from side to side and with a hidden smile, he handed the baby to the maid standing behind them.

"Madeline, take Julian to his room for me please.’’ When Madeline grabbed Julian with great care from the viscount’s arms without saying a word, Julian screamed rebelliously like he understands what was going on. As soon as he began to flutter in the woman's arms and then weep with sobs that tired his small lungs, Geralt felt a great urge to soothe him.

The smell of the baby was so innocent and pure. It was a smell that Geralt had never encountered in any human being, it had shaken the boundaries of what he had been trying for years to be as hard as steel. He tried to keep himself, firm and focused, clenching his jaw hard and ignoring the baby’s cries. He wasn't going after a baby. No. It was ridiculous that he even thought about it.

‘‘I have a monster for you, witcher." said the Viscount, making him pay attention again. ‘‘If you agree to kill, I'll give you half the money up front.’’

Geralt made out a sound that saying he approved the offer. But even as he listened to what the monster looked like, his mind was plugged in innocent sobs heard from the other end of the mansion, which trapped his heart with a strange feeling.

***

Julian was five years old when he first encountered a withcer.

He was playing hide-and-seek with Madeline. If he won, Madeline promised him that she would make his favorite dessert, so Julian had to choose his hidden spot very wisely in order to win. Then remembering that he could hide comfortably in the stables, he ran outside and because he didn't look ahead as he ran, his body collided with something hard-a strong leg that as tall as him-.

Instantly he fell hard on his butt, a pained whimper was about to come out of his lips. Then he pressed his lips to stop himself and rubbed his tearful eyes firmly with tiny fists. His mother didn't like him crying, and he was a big boy now. Crying was for babies.

So when he felt that he was calm enough to open his eyes, he looked up and faced pair of honey colored eyes.

He had heard that witchers always had an ugly, more scarier image than monsters. In fact, they were so horrible that anyone who was so careless to look at them could have nightmares for weeks. But when Julian looked at the man hovering above him like a tower from where he fell, he didn't find him terrible at all. With the double swords he carried behind his back, his large toned body covering the Sun and casting a shadow on his small form, his strange colored hair, which Julian never saw anyone had that color before the old age, the witcher seemed rather different than frightening to him.

His father always said his character was different from the other kids. Julian didn’t understand the danger when he saw it, his emotions were as sensitive as a fragile vase, and he was too merciful to anyone, even for his own health. Because of his mannerism, his father likes to call him ‘ _Dandelion_ ’ from time to time. ‘ _Your heart is too pure and good for this foul world_.’

‘’Your hair is beautiful.’’ He said suddenly. The witcher's eyes grew large slightly, then his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw contracted. When Julian stood up to take a better look at him, something else caught his attention. _Fragrance_. He took a deep breath of air as if to be sure. No doubt it was coming from the stranger. His scent was unlike anything Julian had ever smelled, but its undertone took him to the moments he felt when he was running around the courtyard with his arms open. _Freedom. Outdoor. Soft, rich soil and fresh grass..._

‘‘Julian!" With Madeline's unexpected voice Julian leapt on the spot. He then turned where he was and saw the young maid running towards him. ‘’Come here quickly! Master witcher has a meeting to make.’’

"Can I join too?’’

"No."said Madeline and witcher at the same time. Julian was once again startled by his thick voice, which sounded as if it were coming from a deep, infinite well.

When Madeline started to drag him back to the mansion in a hurry, he looked at the witcher, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard until Julian walked inside. As he walked away from him with each step, something was crushing inside him, causing him to feel a strong desire to return to the witcher’s side. Something, a feeling? he felt, whispering him that he had seen this man before, that he knew him.

For the first time, the smell of someone made him feel more like home than his own.

***

Geralt saw Julian nine years later, in Oxenfurt for the third time.

He was beginning to think that their encounter was more than just a coincidence. When he first saw him, he had gone to Lettenhove to kill a drowner. His second trip to Lettenhove was five years after his first, this time to eliminate two griffins who had ravaged the land and unleashed fear. And now, to meet him here again on the entire continent? He may have hated destiny, but he wasn't too blind to see the signs.

The first thing that made Julian’s presence felt nearby had been the smell of that wreaking his mind and dreams from the day they met. As soon as he caught the sweet essence in the air, it didn't take long for him to trace the scent, like a hunting dog, and he found Julian in front of a small crowd, singing along with his lute. The boy had grown up a lot since he saw him. He grew taller, matured nicely. Maybe he was short compared to his peers, but his legs were long and strong. The childishness on his face was still in place, his blue eyes were bright and his cheeks were round and pink.

But in his blue eyes, there was something he couldn't read that made him seem more mature, and it annoyed Geralt to be able to capture that detail.

As he watched the boy silently through the crowd, from under his cloak, he caught another new detail in his scent. He couldn’t stop himself as he sniff the air again to be sure. This new fragnance that smelled a little different from his main, mouth-watering smell and awakened Geralt’s second gender from its deep slumber. He knew what all of this means.

This kid was an omega.

And it wasn't just any omega.

 _He was his soulmate_.

The smell of any human, omega, or creature of any race hadn’t caught his attention, but this child hadn’t been erased from his memory from the moment they first encountered. While Julian carries the smell of his favourite dessert like an expensive parfume on his skin, the only thing passes through Geralt’s mind to protect him fiercely. And now that he found out about his second gender, his alpha side also opened its eyes. He wanted so much more than to just have him. He wanted to taste him, bite him, leave his marks all over the skin that shimmered like delicious cream until he lost himself in his enchanting scent.

And he was just a kid.

Startled by his own thoughts and emotions, Geralt tried to find his way back among the growing crowd. Witchers couldn't have soulmates. They were designed to spend their lives alone. Their lives were too dangerous and aggressive for humans, especially to the omegas that looked fragile like Julian.

Then why could he feel that he was torturing himself with every step he took?

***

Jaskier was eighteen years old when he saw the witcher again.

As he wandered the stalls set up in the heart of town to do market shopping, he saw the witcher was talking to the blacksmith. At that moment, Jaskier had an irrepressible need to go to his side. With his silver hair extending slightly down his neck, striking eyes that looked like melted gold, and black clothes that hugged his powerful body, he was exactly the same as Jaskier remembered him at the age of five. There wasn’t any sign of aging from his face. While the witcher standing in the same indestructible, confident manner, Jaskier remained astonished on his spot.

What he really needed to do was get what he was asked and then get back to Henrick’s side. He knew all too well that if he was late again, this time the count would do worse than simply slap him in the face. He couldn't stand being hungry again. He could starve for a week at most, and then he lost touch with the outside world and became unconscious, as if someone had turned off the lights without him knowing. Jaskier was most frightened when he was not in control of his own body. He hated to find himself vulnarable.

He could have managed a little more with the food he had eaten two days ago, but since Henrick cut his meals to ‘tame’ him, Jaskier has been trying not to make mistakes so he won’t be starved again.

He looked at the withcer one more time. Even though he never knew the man, he had a strange longing for him. His heart aches just looking at him, it was like he had been reunited with a lost part of him after endless years, and now, a few minutes of tasting the beauty of what he had achieved, Jaskier had to give it up once again. However, since the beginging this man has never been his. He probably only had five minutes of his life. But his soul was struggling, almost begging him to get near this man.

But Jaskier kept his shoulders stubbornly upright, heeded his wishes and went back to the vegetables in front of him. He took what he was going to take without letting the familiar smell that tingled his nose, which seemed painfully peaceful to him that filling his eyes with tears. Then he left the market in a hurry, as if someone had set him on fire.

Although he didn’t want to go back to the hell that awaited him, Jaskier had no choice. He knew how much the senseless peace filled and affected him, even when he was just glancing at the witcher. The smell was exactly the same as freedom. It had a natural essence, untameable, wild like the sky above him. It was poking Jaskier's feelings of despair years ago, and it did nothing but hurt him greatly.

Because he knew he couldn't be free.

His family was abandoned him here until they paid their debts, and Jaskier knew he was going to stay here until the day he died. His mother never loved him, and she finally had a chance to get rid of him when his father died three years ago. She had no reason to take him back to her side, to home. Jaskier was completely left at Henrick's ruthless hands.

As his feet led him to where he knew by heart, the words his father once said to him resonated in his ear.

_'’My sweet dandelion, your heart is too pure and good for this foul world.’’_

Jaskier first learned this as his uncle touched him when he was seven years old. After having managed to keep his secret for a year and a half, he explained the situation to his mother, while he was crying and trying to surpress his hiccups. He learned his lesson that time when his mother did nothing for him. Didn’t even care that her son mauled by his own brother. When he was kidnapped by Henrick's men at Oxenfurt and realised that no one would come for him, he learned that time too. And he learned when he lost his father, who was the only solid rock in his life that he can rely onto without a second thought.

Jaskier knew how cruel life was. From the very beginning he knew.

No one was coming for him.

 _He was completely alone_.


	2. Souls Always Feel Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Millons thanks to Lion_Hatted_Girl for beta-reading this chapter! You're an absolute sweetheart.

**SOULS ALWAYS FEEL EACH OTHER**

_‘’Mommy!’’_

_Julian tearfully ran to his mother to pull the tiny sting that stuck in his finger. It all happened when he was looking at the roses in the garden, just wanted to make his mother happy. But he didn’t pay attention to the bees as he carefully examined and sniffed each one to find the most beautiful, the largest and the reddest looking rose. When a large honey bee stuck its sting in his finger, he first thought it was the thorn of one of the roses he touched. But when he raised his finger, he was confronted with yellow-and-black lines and tried to throw the bee away with trembling fingers. He did, but the sting was still stuck in his finger._

_‘’Mom! Mommy, where are you?’’_

_‘‘Julian!’’_

_When his mother appeared at the end of the hallway where he was running, Julian crossed the distance as far as his short feet allowed and jumped into his mother's arms._  
_As Caroline Mary de Lettenhove leansed down to see his problem with her usual cold-bloodedness, Julian sobbed and showed his little finger._

_‘’I-It hurts.’’_

_His mother's black eyebrows furrowed._

_‘’Was that what you were crying about?’’_

_‘’B-but, mom-‘’_

_"Julian, you know how much I hate it when you cry, right?’’_

_Julian bowed his head in defeat. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand, trying to suppress his sobs. Although his finger still burned with pain, his mother's cold, ice like voice scared him more._

_‘’You're almost six years old. Soon you'll be a big boy, crying is for babies. Are you a baby?’’_

_‘’N-No." Julian pulled himself from his mother’s lap, which felt cold like her words, and lowered his gaze to the ground."I was... I was just collecting roses for you. To make you happy." he said in a small, tearful voice._

_‘‘We have enough servants for that. If you want to make me happy, all you have to do is behave and study.’’_

_‘’Okay, mom.’’_

_His voice was so low that he almost couldn't even hear what he was saying. The pain on his finger turned into a tingle that felt numb, vaguely presence. His mother's words were more painful than the sting. No matter what he did, Julian felt he could never make his mother happy. It was as if he would never be enough for her, never see her smile for him... For her, he was trying to remain really good and quiet as she always wanted, but every time they held a feast , the music was so beautiful that it was torture for Julian to be able to sit still._

_He wanted to get up and dance, sing, touch one of the instruments in the musicians' hands. He wanted to run around the garden, roll around without worrying about his clothes getting dirty, and do something with his mother. But whatever he tried by now , his mother didn’t care about any of it. Instead, his father was always there for him, trying to close the gap that left by his mother._

_But Julian wanted his mother. He wanted her to read stories for him, fondly caressing his head like his father did, telling him lots of ‘I love you’ until his small heart burst with love. Julian had never heard his mother say that she loved him. Not even once. He wanted to hear it so badly that he was trying to fit the mold his mother had created for him. Maybe if he could be the son she wanted... Maybe his mom would finally starts loving him, too?_

_‘’Mary!’’_

_Julian turned around when he heard his uncle's familiar voice. With his black hair and hazel eyes, uncle Marco was exactly the same as he had seen the previous year. Growing a beard had changed him a bit, now he looked a bit more mature and older._

_"Are you still scolding the boy, Mary?’’_

_‘’I just remindered what he had to do as a viscount’s son." His mother said in a sharp voice. Julian couldn't stop his startling._

_"Julian, little one.’’ His uncle stood a little away from him, then knelt before him and opened his arms to his sides, winking at him.‘’Aren't you going to say hello to your uncle?’’_

_"Hello, Uncle Marco.’’_

_Julian quietly responded to his uncle's hug, snuggling into his warm body. His uncle always had a sharp, strong smell that made his nose sting. Although he was an alpha like his father, his scent was more different than him. It was more spicy and intense. Almost suffocating him. When Julian pulled back after hugging him enough, his uncle noticed the tears on his face and grabbed his cheeks with both hands._

_‘’Were you crying?’’_

_Although Julian shook his head quickly, his mother revealed his little lie._

_‘’A bee stung his finger while he was looking at the roses. Don't be fooled by his crying, he's fine.’’_

_‘’That's too bad." His uncle wiped the tear tracks on his cheeks and glanced at him with his anxious gazing hazel eyes. ‘’Can I see your finger?’’_

_Julian bit his lower lip indecisively. Then he extended his trembling hand towards him under the calm but also intense fleeing gaze of his uncle. His uncle gripped his hand, looking at the angry red spot on his finger._

_‘’The sting is still in place. Do you want me to take it out for you?’’_

_Julian started to feel the hurt again with the mention of his finger. Trying to suppress his tears, he bit his lip harder, avoid asking if it would hurt. He didn't want his mother to get mad at him again. So he held his shoulders upright, nodding boldly as he gazed at his uncle. Uncle Marco smiled at him, for a short moment, his hazel eyes flickered on his lip which Julian was biting on to stop his hiccups, then looked at his finger again._

_‘‘On three. One, two - " Julian felt a little ache next to the burning pain when his unle quickly pulled out the sting. ‘’That's it, you were great." His uncle ruffled his hair, his large hand caressed his curls, then landed on his cheek once more. As Julian looked at the red spot on his finger, he was unaware of his uncle's deep gaze, nor was he aware that his empty hand was circling above his arm._

_As his mother cleaned his throat with a fake cough, his uncle startled and turned his attention back on him, holding him by his firm hand._

_‘‘Come, let's put some ointment on it, it'll do you good.’’_

***

As Jaskier returned from the market, he ran straight to the kitchen and left the groceries to the cook. The cook - Fernand-hastily said nothing about what he had brought then called out to the other two helpers in the kitchen, telling them to get the ingredients.

‘’The count wants to see you." Fernand said.

Jaskier chewed the edges of the bread left over from a few days earlier, trying not to mind his stomach, which was stricken with fear. Why did the count want to see him? He was sure he didn't linger too long in the market, staring at the witcher and getting everything he needed, heading straight for the mansion. Even though walking away from the silver-haired stranger hurt him in a way he couldn't understand, he knew Henrick would hurt him more, so he didn’t take any risks. He wouldn’t dare to.

Catching the fearful gaze in his eyes, with a calm expression, Fernand placed one hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed it as if in consolation. Although his touch was well-intentioned, it couldn't stop him from trembling.

"I don't think that he is calling you for anything bad, son. He seemed to be in a good mood today.’’

Jaskier swallowed the bread, which had turned to ash in his mouth, with an audible gulp. His stomach was tangled in knots because of the fear and the decreasing meals. He could feel the acid climbing up his throat. Jaskier stopped chewing the dried bread and left it on the marble counter in front of him, as he tried to breathe through his shrinking rib cage. When Fernand handed him water to drink, Jaskier gratefully took what he had extended and tried to relax himself by taking small sips.

Henrick would never call him for anything good. What did he do wrong this time? He did all his morning work, cleaned the stables and went straight to the market. He came back before noon too. He hadn't spoken to anyone, he knew how much Henrick hated him for talking to the people. Jaskier had learned that in a bitter way. So he didn't even try to open his mouth when he left the manor, so as to not repeat the lesson again for his own sake.

Then where did he go wrong?

The water he drank burned his mouth as if it were acid. Holding the cup tightly, his knuckles were cut white and he felt pressure in his lungs. Would he be starved again? He could bear this for a few days, but what if Henrick resorted to the other path, _violence_ , instead of testing him with hunger? If he whips him again-

"Jaskier, son, calm down." Fernand tried to distract him from his thoughts by tightening his grip on his shoulder. ‘’Go and see him, I don't think he'll hurt you. There's something else on his mind. Days ago, I heard the townspeople talking about a monster that lurking around. It was damaging the crops and spreading fear. This will soon affect tax purchases as well. You know how much Henrick values money.’’

Jaskier tried to take a deep breath, allowing his words to soothe him little. He heard the rumors about the monster too, they were all over the market today. Maybe that's why the witcher was here.

Jaskier gathered what remained of his courage and locked eyes with Fernand. The old man offered him a warm smile, and if anyone was close to him in this house, it was Fernand. Fernand helped him several times to eat in secret, even a little bit when Henrick starved him, and when his wounds made him unable to walk, Fernand was not afraid to take care of his injuries. Although Henrick ordered that no one should take care of him or help him, the old man had been by his side without drawing much attention to himself. Maybe because he felt sorry for him, maybe because he really cared. No matter what, Jaskier was grateful for the small kindness shown to him in this cruel place.

‘‘He's probably in his study.’’

After looking at Fernand one last time, Jaskier stepped out of the kitchen to make his way to the place he knew by heart. As his legs moved apart from his upper body as if they were made of rubber, Jaskier wiped his hands on top of his legs to prevent from starting to sweat. It wasn't long before he came face to face with the door of the room where he had been found hundreds of times.

"Come in, Julian, I can smell you behind the door.’’

Jaskier pressed his hands a little harder on himself. He hated the way he called him that. _Julian_. He abandoned that name at Oxenfurt. He knew he was left there because he was an omega, and instead of turning his back on his second gender, like his family did, Jaskier tried to accept it, leaving behind everything that made him Julian in order to make a clean slate for himself.

Though his mother approached his omega gender as if it were an old curse, Jaskier refused to see himself that way and tried to love his body despite everything he had been through. But now, ever since he fell into Henrick's hands, he hasn't been as receptive to himself as he used to be. In a few years, Henrick had destroyed everything he was trying to build. He was way behind where it started.

He was disgusted by touches. He couldn't handle being touched without his consent, not a single fingertip could touch his skin without a bile rising in his throat. His body always felt like it was scorched as if he bathed in lava, in terrible pain and cramps that made him feel nauseous. After his uncle, it took him many years to recover. He knew that he could never be as innocent as he used to be, that he could feel as whole as any normal person. _No_.

Sometimes all Jaskier wanted to do was sit down and wash his skin for hours until it turned red and even bled. It was a terrible feeling to never be comfortable in his own skin. Now, being pushed back into Henrick's hands made him feel more helpless and powerless than ever.

The pessimism that made Jaskier feel that he would never get out of this place was the blow that brought him down. The three years he spent in Oxenfurt were like it had never happened, as if he had never changed his name to Jaskier. It was Julian who was still trying to satisfy everyone and put his own happiness behind him.

Jaskier entered the room with a deep breath. Henrick was standing in front of a tall, dark cherry-colored work table. He had his arms propped up behind him, a few buttons open on the front of his linen shirt, exposing his chest. Henrick was a charismatic man, with black wavy hair and piercing eyes that looked blue, almost green. His facial features were sharp, with an aura eminating from his long body indicating he was an alpha.

For anyone out there, no doubt that Henrick must have been the embodiment of total perfection. He was an alpha, handsome, came from a good family, and was also one of the wealthiest landlord s in Redania. And he was single. But Jaskier had learned firsthand how deceptive his appearance was. Henrick was a cruel man, his image was just a mask, a hoax. No one from the outside knew what was going on inside the mansion. There was no one who could hear his voice wailing in pain.

"Come here, omega.’’

Jaskier approached the count with his head tilted, keeping his gaze on the ground. Henrick made a sound that indicated his delight in his submissiveness, and grasped his chin with his fingers, pressuring him to look at it.

‘‘Look at me.’’

Jaskier raised his head knowing that he had no other choice. Henrick responded him with a cold smile and gave a little kiss on his lips. Jaskier tried to keep his body motionless, because he knew how easily the count could shed his false gentleness in one teeny misstep.

‘‘You look beautiful today. That’s good." Henrick's hand that was on his chin went first to his cheek, while Jaskier maintained his passive posture, then moved to the tufts of hair that fell in front of his eye, lingering there a little. ‘‘There's something I want you to do for me, Julian. You must have heard about that monster the villagers were talking about at the market.’’

‘‘Yes, sir.’’

‘’From what I've learned, our crops have been infested with this beast for some time. No one was able to kill it, and everyone in the neighborhood was scared out of their homes." Henrick's grip slowly began to tighten. "Conland told me there was a witcher walking around nearby. People called him the White Wolf because he looked like a well, wolf. What I want from you is my dear Julian,’’ Henrick's hand fisted his locks. Jaskier tried to hold still in place, trying to suppress the little groan that climbed up his throat. "Is to find him and bring him to me. I'm pretty sure he can eliminate the monster problem in exchange for the amount I'm offering.’’

‘’Of course, sir.’’

‘’Good boy. I've heard a lot of rumors about witchers, so be careful when you approach him. I want you to come back to me in one piece.’’

The count bent, leaving a stiff, bitter and somewhat bloody kiss on his lips, then released him. Jaskier did nothing to his bleeding lower lip, knowing the punishment for touching the marks Henrick left on his body without the man's consent. So with the quiet sign that the count had given him to go quietly, Jaskier left the room at a record speed.

His heart was pounding inside him as he ran out of the mansion. Unbeknownst to Henrick, this was the first thing he had asked of Jaskier that wasn’t terrifying, even though he had only seen the witcher twice in his life. Even though he knew from his experience with his uncle how deceiving appearance could be. Even though Henrick made sure he could never forget it. And though it would be a like if he said the witcher didn’t look a little alarming, who was Jaskier to judge? All he knew was what he had heard about his race.

Ten minutes later, Jaskier found himself once again in the town square, looking around. Where would he go if he was a witcher? What would he be doing right now? His gaze turned to where the blacksmith was. Something inside him said that the witcher wasn't there anymore... It was as if, strangely, he knew where the man was, and that sounded as creepy as it sounded impossible.

Jaskier wandered around town trying not to get too hung up on what was going on. He was careful not to keep his gaze on the people too much. Making eye contact is too much for him... it sounded intense. He couldn't make eye contact for more than a few seconds unless someone forced him. His stomach immediately began to contract in response, while cold sweat gathered on his skin when he tried.

He stood hesitantly when his feet brought him to the front of a three-story inn. He could hear the shouts, the laughter and the clinking ale mugs that made up the classic inn noise that coming from inside. There was also a light smell that he picked up in the market area a few hours ago. The witcher's scent.

He was here.

Jaskier opened the door of the inn with a faint, fading excitement rather than fear, and crept in from the doorway without any difficulty. The inn was crowded and it was not evening yet. People of all ages, from young to old, had filled the surrounding tables. _Except for one person_. Jaskier caught the witcher's distinctive scent, despite the smell of piss and cheap beer filling his nostrils. The smell of freedom bearing a burning and ferocious esence that set his breath free, which Jaskier didn't even realize he was holding until the wonderful smell cheered his lungs.

As the smell gave him direction, he found the man, who had been sitting at the far end of the inn, and encountered the witcher's amber-colored eyes that had already been watching him. Jaskier felt a little, kind of pleasant tingling in his whole body while being watched by the man. He couldn't say if it felt good or bad, but it made him unable to turn his gaze.

He made his way to the witcher, like someone was pulling him with an invisible rope. Just from where he was sitting, the witcher was radiating such an obvious power that Jaskier could not understand how he still had not the slightest fear of him. This didn’t make sense. But the peculiar, masculine wild smell of the man suppressing the carrion smell of the inn calmed Jaskier's rapidly beating heart.

When he got close to him, he saw his face clearly for the first time. It was easy to make out facial features, as his seat was close to the window. Each piece of his face, made up of hard corners, seemed to have come out of the hands of an incredibly talented sculptor. His lines were strong, prominent and sharp. His long hair housed every shade of white, and under the darkness of the inn it was almost no different from molten silver. A few stubborn strands had slipped away from the strap that tied his hair, which he had gathered half behind him, and fell in front of his golden-coloured eyes.

His square-shaped jaw obviously clenched as he saw his approach, creating deep hollows in his cheeks. Jaskier did not let his harsh gaze intimidate him and curled between tables and people until he approached the witcher. He did not want to think about what would happen to him if he couldn’t convince witcher come with him to Henrick, he could not afford to end his mission in failure.

When he got close enough, Jaskier found out again how big the witcher really was. His armor had doubled his already large body. Only his arm muscle was the size of his head, his size so wide and thick that he filled his seat with no gaps. He wondered how such a big man could kill monsters quickly. He was sure it wasn't an easy task.

‘’Hello." he said in an insecure voice. The Witcher looked at his face with expressionless eyes. ‘’My name Is Jaskier. I-uh, can I sit down?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’Okay, no problem." As he tried to quell his escalating tension, his fingers began to circle around his palms. It was a tick he couldn’t stop to do when he started to get nervous. ‘’I came from master Henrick Omar Rholdian. He's the land lord here. He wants to offer you a payment for the monster that been scourging our land. I-I can take you to him if-if you want?’’

The witcher remained silent. He sipped his ale after looking at him a little more with unblinking eyes that had a calm, tamed wildness. Although silence further increased the tension, he pushed his luck and offered a little smile in hopes that looking friendly.

‘’I am sure my master will offer you a handsome payment.’’

‘‘Place." The witcher said, in that thick, raw voice. Jaskier trembled slightly. ‘‘Where?’’

‘’He lives downtown in the big mansion at the entrance to the town. It's not far from here. I could take you. If- if you want, of course’’

Taking another sip of his ale, Jaskier didn't take his gaze away from the witcher, as the man inspected him from head to toe. Funny, though he avoided eye contact at all costs, this man’s gaze didn't bother him. Rather than feeling threatened, Jaskier was engulfed in a senseless sense of trust. It was a feeling he hadn't tasted in years. The sensation was almost foreign for him.

His soul was drawn into a sweet trance. Feeling safe in the presence of this stranger he never knew scared Jaskier to the bone. How could that be possible?

The Witcher left his finished ale on the table. Then, sighing, Jaskier felt small in the face of his height as he got up from his seat. Okay, he knew that he was shorter than most people of his own age but with the women he was generally either the same height with them or a slight bit taller. He rarely felt too short, but in the face of this man, he felt smaller and more vulnerable than ever.

Standing against the wall, the witcher reached for his double swords and tied them to his wide back. Then he pulled some coin from his pouch and left it on the table, and ambled around the table to finally, stand in front of him. Jaskier tilted his head slightly backwards so as not to cut off eye contact, his head barely reaching the man's chest.

The witcher took a greedy deep breath from the air. After his pupils had thinned like cats for a few seconds, he turned round and took another step towards him, slightly occupying Jaskier's space.

"Lead the way.''


	3. A Fragile Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Millions thanks to Lion_Hatted_Girl for beta-reading this chapter! You're an angel for editing this mess, thank you again.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains sexual abuse against the child (Those written in italics belong to that part.)

**A FRAGILE SOUL**

_"Uncle Marco?’’_

_Julian peeked his head though the bedroom door. His uncle was lying in his large bed, which could easily accommodate three people, blinking his misty eyes, showing that he was just starting to sober up from sleep. When his uncle noticed him, a small, almost indistinct smile appeared on his face. In the face of his uncle’s awakening, Julian felt a little more courageous and made his voice more audible._

_"My mother asked me to tell you that dinner is ready.’’_

_‘’Great. Did she tell you what kind of meal we'll have for dinner too?_

_Julian shook his head as a no._

_‘‘Then I guess we have no choice but to go and see.’’ But instead of getting out of bed, Uncle Marco kept watching him. Julian stared at his uncle with curious eyes, tilting his head slightly to the right. He was completely unaware of the strange, dark aura hanging in the air._

_"Uncle?’’_

_"Come lie down next to me, Julian. How old were you the last time I saw you? Five?" His uncle pointed out the gap next to him by patting his hand on the mattress. ‘‘Come on, let’s ease some longing.’’_

_‘’But what about my mother?" he said in a slightly tense voice. His mother had made a very simple request from him, which was to find his uncle and bring him to dinner. He didn't want to disappoint her. He was now seven, old enough to live up to expectations. He wanted his mother to be as proud as his father was of him. When he dipped his small teeth into his lower lip with tension, his uncle spoke again, feeling his unease._

_‘’Your mother can be patient for a few more minutes, I'll take responsibility. Come on, kid, don't you miss your uncle?’’_

_As Julian didn’t want to be rude, he bowed to his uncle's request and made his way to him with quiet steps on the marble floor. He loved his uncle, but because he saw him once or twice in a year, or sometimes even less, he couldn't say that he missed him that much. But listening to his stories had always amused him. Julian had no idea of the life outside the mansion. He didn’t know what was going on beyond the boundaries, what children of his own age were doing, or what monsters looked like. With his uncle's tales, he was just trying to make room between his thoughts in his vast imagination. Julian always liked to dream. It made him happy to stay in his little bubble, where he felt comfortable and free, taking him away from the real world a little bit._

_When he got to his uncle's side, Uncle Marco helped him get to bed, and when he lay down beside him, his uncle's hand went to his hair._

_‘’Your hair is so soft. It's like kitten fuzz.’’_

_"Madeline also says the same thing. She brushes my hair every day for me." Julian said with a little giggle. How long were they gonna stay like this? If the food gets cold-_

_"You've grown quite a lot in the last year and a half, Julian.’’_

_When his uncle's hand touched his cheek, Julian grinned with a bigger smile than before._

_‘’Because I drink milk every day! Soon I'll be a strong big man like you, uncle.’’_

_‘’You shouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up. There's very little about adulthood that's attractive.’’ His uncle surrounded him with his arms and pressed himself, placing his nose at the top of his head. ‘’You're prettier like this. You don't need to grow.’’_

_Julian stood still as long as he could. His entire body was starting to get warm because it pressed his uncle from head to tip, and he was a little uncomfortable with the situation because of his ability to move was restricted. A few minutes later, when his uncle's hand found his bare back under his chemise, Julian was startled and tried to wiggle his head so he could see his uncle's face with big eyes. But uncle Marco wouldn't let him move, tightening his grip and keeping him in place._

_‘’Your skin is so soft and tender and smooth.’’ He took a deep breath from his hair. ‘’And that smell... So innocent, so sweet. So... Delicious.’’_

_Julian's smile faded. His body lay motionless between his uncle's arms, while his heart contracted with fear by the effect of his uncle’s strange words had on him. He didn't like that. He really, really didn't like that. No one's ever touched him like Uncle Marco did. His touch didn't feel warm, it wasn't friendly or familiar. It was even more different than his mother's touch. It felt wrong and there was something about it that felt also persistent. His uncle seemed to demand that he reciprocate. The thought further triggered Julian's fear and he began writhing between his iron grip._

_"Uncle? Uncle, let me go, please. I’m scared.’’_

_‘’I hate it when you call me that.’’ His uncle's hand went a little lower than his back. When he reached his butt from under the pants, Julian's heart almost reached to his mouth._

_‘‘Let me love you a little more.’’_

_‘’No. Don't-uncle please, you’re scaring me. Please stop.’’_

_His uncle didn’t listen to him. One hand completely covered his butt, stroking him, squeezing him and kneading him with his palm. Julian's body is frozen. He tried to suppress his sobs and push his uncle away from him, as tears quickly moved through his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. But Julian’s efforts were fruitless, and his uncle was much bigger than him. His power was no different than a fly to Uncle Marco, it almost had no effect._

_‘’Uncle-‘’_

_"Shh, leave yourself to me." His other hand came towards Julian’s front. Where his peepee lie. "Don't you want me to see how much you've grown?''_

_"No!''_

_Julian screamed at that and used all his power to repel his uncle, despite the terrible fear that had seized him. And he succeeded. With his uncle distancing himself a few inches backwards against his unexpected move, Julian quickly distanced himself from his loosening grip. But instead of getting out of bed because of his trembling limbs, he fell face down. He felt a sharp pain on his forehead from falling hard to the floor, sobbing but still standing with the adrenaline entangling in his body, he rushed to leave the room, ignoring the fact that his forehead began to bleed._

_"Julian! Get back here!''_

_Julian didn’t listen. With tears, sweat and blood flowing from his forehead, he continued to run to his room like his life depends on it. It was the only place he felt safe and sound and right now, Julian felt very, very bad. His heart was beating so fast that it’s violence made him nauseous, making him want to throw up all the snacks Madeline had made for him this afternoon._

_"Julian!''_

_He forced his legs to go faster because he could still hear his uncle's voice. Within seconds, when he got to his room, he threw himself in, locking the door behind him and crawled under the bed. He tried to suppress his wailings and kept repeating his mother’s harsh words to stop himself, but he couldn’t. His fear caused him to tremble violently and his sobs suffocated him._

_Julian curled up where he lay down, curled into the fetal position, and buried his face between his knees, trying to distance his thoughts from what just had happened. His day had begun beautifully, he took care of the horses with the stableman, pampered them with sugar and carrots, and then played games with Madeline in the garden until noon. However, because it was summer and the weather was very hot, when the sun took its place at the top, they had to get inside quickly to not get sunburns._

_And the afternoon was quite pleasant too, until... Until his uncle-_

_Julian sobbed. As he hugged himself tighter, he closed his eyes and forced himself to think of beautiful things. His father had gone to meet one of the landlords in Redania a week earlier, and Julian felt his absence so clearly for the first time. What he wouldn't give to have his father by his side right now, to calm him down with his sugar coated words._

_As his failure to calm himself grew, he suddenly remembered the witcher he had seen two years ago. He remembered how his white hair shone under the sun, his thick body standing like a tree trunk, and his eyes glistening like gold coins. His scent was never erased from the tip of his nose. Julian’s sobs slowly subsided as he remembered more about him. Wiping tears down with his arm, he wondered where the witcher was right now, what he was doing._

_Probably somewhere much further from him, killing monsters and helping people. He should have been quite happy too. No one could beat him, after all he was a witcher, very different from ordinary townsfolk. He was a hunter who destroyed the monsters in the tales he listened to. Julian’s body slowly loosened, he took a deep breath and after blinking his eyes several times, he decided to close them once again._

_He imagined himself in a vast green landscape, running between yellow dandelions and daisies as white as a cloud. A little away from him stood the witcher, lying under the shadow of an old willow tree. He had removed his swords and armor, and a smile had settled on his hard face, though not as big as Julian’s own smile. Inside himself, like deep in his soul, Julian knew that if the witcher stood near him, no one could hurt him. He was so happy and peaceful in his dream that his body was finally starting to calm down as well._

_Without questioning why or how he could feel that way, he retreated deep into his dream. As he navigated his own artificial happy world, his soul filled with peace as he dreamed of the witcher, and he fell asleep under his bed with a tiny smile, completely the opposite of his tearful face._

***

Jaskier couldn't take his eyes off him as he walked side by side with the witcher. It was like a dream. He was aware of the people's gaze that glanced at them- _more towards the witcher_ \- but he was in no position to care about any of that. He had dreamed of this moment many times to free himself from his pessimistic thoughts and the brutality of the outside world. He had seen him for a few minutes when he was five, and just by that, the witcher had made a huge impact on his life.

If he didn't completely let the depression swallow him up, it was because he was taking refuge in his dream world. His dreams didn’t have much of a set-up about him though, all of them were innocent. The witcher was a symbol of peace in his artificial world. In his dreams the witcher was always somewhere close, sometimes as close as an arm's length, sometimes much farther, but he was always there, the main piece that kept his mind intact. Even though he hasn't dreamed as often in recent years as he did in his childhood.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jaskier said. His voice was a little low, a little insecure, but his curiosity was above all, so the witcher didn't have much trouble in understanding him.

"You already asked.''

"Oh, then do you mind if I ask you an another question?''

The one side of the witcher’s lips curled up slightly, as if he was smiling.

"You did it again.''

"Right-yeah, my fault." Jaskier offered a small, shy smile, scratching the back of his head. "Has there ever been a monster you can't kill?''

''No.''

"Really?''

The witcher stared at him with side eyes.

''Really.''

"That’s incredible!" Jaskier couldn’t hide the astonishment in his voice. "How did you achieve this level of specialization?''

The witcher remained silent as if contemplating an answer to his question. Jaskier was aware that he shouldn't gaze at him any further, he was sure it created a disturbing image. But he couldn't take his eyes off him. The witcher didn't quite look like he belonged to this world. It wasn't because his hair or eyes had a different color. It was the way he carried himself.

It’s made him separate from everyone else, from every living thing. He had a calm composed aura, even so he managed to look like he was the embodiment of danger. He was moving forward with ease, as if he was unaware of the two swords he was carrying on his back, but Jaskier could see that it was all a hoax. The witcher's eyes were everywhere. On the road ahead, on the people, on the buildings and especially on him... The Witcher was looking at him, like the way Jaskier was looking at him.

‘’It's my job.’’

After a brief silence, his simple explanation that sounded it explains everything, made Jaskier laugh for no reason.

‘’Mutations are part of that, aren't they? Although I don't remember ever seeing a witcher with white hair. Actually, you're the first witcher I've ever seen. Are the others like you? I'm talking about your appearance. Does everyone in your race look alike?’’

‘’Partially. We all nearly have the same build and eyes, but not the hair.’’

_I knew it._

Jaskier stretched his chest with pride that his little assumptions were true. The witcher looked at him with a strange expression, like Jaskier was the strangest creature he had ever seen on this earth. Actually, the witcher’s face was quite expressionless, but for some reason, Jaskier could feel that he was being questioned. He couldn't stand the attention of gold-colored irises, asking him again in a voice that could be considered timid.

‘’Is there something on my face?’’

‘’Your lip." Witcher's eyes squinted slightly. ‘’It's bleeding.’’

‘’Oh, oh, well... I was running on the way here, and I accidentally bit it while I was running.’’

The witcher's gaze became even more narrowed. It was obvious that he didn't believe his lie, and within seconds his face was shadowed with an eerie expression. Feeling compelled to wipe the blood under his gaze, Jaskier wiped the thin striped stain with the back of his hand all the way to his chin. The witcher watched his every move like a predator, his large hands that were covered in leather gloves forming a fist as his jaw clenched.

Jaskier pulled his hand when he was sure he cleaned the blood under the witcher’s piercing gaze, and at that very moment, the witcher asked him a strange question.

‘’Why aren't you afraid of me?’’

Jaskier’s brows furrowed.

‘’Should I be afraid?’’

‘’Should it be the opposite?’’

‘’You're the one asking." Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest. He was then stunned, realizing how comfortable he was talking with him. The words were just coming out of his mouth. Unfiltered, completely flat and lean. He didn't have to say fancy words. Or he didn't need to avoid eye contact when he was talking, and he didn't need to be more obedient than he needed to be. Almost... He was almost like himself.

‘’You're a weird one.’’

‘’Which one of us isn't?’’

The witcher gave out a little grunt that sounded like a laugh. Together, as they set out on a wide road that runs down the market area, Jaskier decided that this moment was even more beautiful than his dreams. _Because it was real_. The witcher really was there with him. The line in the middle of his frowned eyebrows, the dimple on his chin, the freckles on his healthy skin... He had more detail than Jaskier could have ever imagined and created by himself.

‘’You're staring at me.’’

‘’Well, I don't see a witcher every day." _Because I want to memorize every detail before this moment is over in a few minutes._ ‘’You're not like the ones mentioned in the rumors.’’

‘’What did you expect to meet?’’

‘’Nearly seven feet tall, pointy canine teeth and oh, maybe a sharp pair of horns?’’

Geralt scowled as if he found his words offensive.

"You listen to too many fairy tales, kid.’’

‘’Kid?" It was Jaskier's turn to find his words offensive. ‘’I am eighteen. And in a few months, I'll be nineteen, thank you.’’

‘’You're still a child, maybe even a baby." The teasing tone in his voice did not escape Jaskier's attention. The dialogue between them was so beautiful and straight forward that he didn’t want to finish it. It wasn't like when he spent time with Fernand. It was different in every way, more satisfying. And he could feel his soul take a deep sigh of relief, shook his body with a heavenly ache.

And a little later, it would all be over when they arrieved at Henrick’s mansion. After the witcher killed the monster, he would take his money and leave the town. Jaskier would probably never see him again. Maybe if he got lucky, they could meet again years later, but he didn't know how much more he could endure to Henrick’s cruelty. His stamina was about to reach zero.

‘’Then how old are you? I'm sure you must be in your mid-thirties -‘’

‘’Next winter I'll be ninety-seven.’’

Jaskier's mouth gaped open.

‘‘You—you're too old!’’

‘’Thanks for reminding.’’

‘’No, ah, sorry for sounding rude. I mean you don't look over mid-thirty. There must be a lot of people jealous of your skin.’’

The witcher’s expression slightly softened as he heard his words.

"Mutations.’’

‘’Ahh, that's right. I got it. Great, a very cool feature." Jaskier gave him a curious look. ‘’And how do you spend your time on the road? Do you have any company?’’

"Roach." Witcher said with a brief, short answer.

‘’And it's your...?’’

‘’Horse.’’

‘’Well, that's good. And is there no one else but the horse? Are you always alone?’’

‘’You're definitely a weird one. Why do you ask so many questions?’’

‘’I told you a moment ago. It's the first time I've ever seen a witcher so close.’’

‘’Not for the first time." The witcher said. His words were so hard to hear even though he had a deep voice, but Jaskier heard him. His eyes grew large and he looked at him with a bewildered expression.

‘’What-You...Do- Do you remember? But-’’

‘’In Lettenhove." The witcher, with an illegible expression turned his gaze towards the road in front of him. ‘’You are the son of the viscount.’’

‘’That-‘’

‘’Don't deny it, I know this.’’

‘’I wasn’t going to.’’

Jaskier couldn't find another answer. He wonders... it was a funny thought, but did the witcher ever think of him once? Despite that it's been so many years, his recollection of him may have been purely a work of mutation. His memory was probably stronger than other people's. Still, like an idiot, he wanted to believe that he'd thought of him, even a little bit. Jaskier couldn't understand why he wanted this, why he cared about the witcher’s thoughts, but the simple thought of it comforted him.

‘‘As for your question, my kind live a lonely life. We don't need anyone.’’

_Like hell._

Everyone needed someone in their lives. Jaskier stared at the witcher with evasive eyes. _He also needed one, right?_

But unfortunately the question stuck in his throat, when they reached their destination. Jaskier's little happiness faded like a hot air balloon as they passed through the gate formed by the black iron railings. Henrick was standing in the middle of the courtyard with two of his men behind him, whom he trusted very much. Jaskier's body was tense, an intense desire to go backwards washed over him, while his smile, which had been on his face since his conversation with the witcher, was erased.

Even though the witcher did not make any implication that he had noticed the change in him, Jaskier trembled, like had been electrocuted when the withcer rubbed his shoulder gently, very, very gently at him. He looked at the man with big eyes, but rather than looking at him, the witcher already looked at the men in front of him with cold, amber eyes. His eyes didn’t have the enchanting gold color in them anymore. It was cold, harsh and piercing like a brutal winter storm. Henrick clasped his hands, wearing his most professional smile under the man's sharp gaze.

"Witcher! Welcome, I have an offer for you. Four hundred coins, how does that sound?''

"Tell me about the monster first.''

"All I know about it is that it's terrorizing and destroying our crops." Henrick gave out a dramatic sigh. "You'll probably find the creature on the other side of town, where the fields begin. I don't know how many of them are lurking around or what they are, but if you bring me their head, the money is yours.''

"I want half up the payment in advance.''

"I'll only give you a quarter up front." Henrick's smile turned into a scowl. "I've never heard good things about your kind, witcher. There are too many cowards among you who took the money and ran away instead of killing the monster.''

The witcher's jaw clenched hard, but instead of lashing out to Henrick, he answered him with the same calm tone.

"I accept your offer.''

"Good, I'm glad we got an agreement. When will you be back here with the creature’s head?''

"How many hours does it take to get from here to the other end of town?''

"If you're planning to go on foot, four hours, if you're going by horse, one, two hours at most.''

"I'll be here in a few hours.''

"Wow, aren't you exaggerating a bit witcher?''

The witcher did not respond, standing with a passive facial expression while Henrick grinned.

"All right, then we have an actual deal now. I expect you to be back here before the end of the day, witcher.''

The witcher made a grunt-like sound that made it clear that he heard him. After he looked at the count for a second, his gaze turned to him once again. Jaskier offered him a tight smile. He wanted to wish him good luck, but he couldn't speak freely when Henrick was around. His heart stuck slightly. He wondered what kind of monster the witcher was going to face. How would he fight? How would he swing his swords, how would he defend himself? Although Jaskier knew that it wasn’t safe, he would love to watch the fight, he was sure it would be etched into his memory as one of the most epic images he would ever see in his life.

Everyone had heard so much about the White Wolf. He was the most famous of his endangered race. Instead of hearing the stories, being one to witness them? It was a tremendous dream for Jaskier.

The witcher kept staring at him with unreadable eyes, then his shoulder touched him one last time as he walked past him with a deep sigh. Instead of being startled by the slightest contact, Jaskier tried to confine himself in the emotion. _He didn't want him to go._

But as the witcher walked away, Jaskier could do nothing but to watch him. He swallowed hard, and his scent began to fade with him slowly, losing its track. With the witcher finally disappearing from sight, a hard-to-describe feeling as if he couldn't fit into his own body took a hold of him. It was like something inside of him was screaming with pain, scratching the walls of the flesh that formed him. He wanted to be free.

He wanted this with a strong will that he hasn't wanted in years. He needed to go after the witcher. His whole existence was trembling with this unstoppable need.

"Julian." Henrick appeared before him with a cold voice that removed him from his thoughts. "Congratulations on making it back in one piece.''

Jaskier bowed his head and quietly accepted his master's thanks. When Henrick grabbed him by the back of his neck and made him look at his face, Jaskier tried to put on a bold front, showing that he wasn’t impressed by the witcher's departure.

Henrick leans in his ear and says, "I have some good news for you. Your routine checks will be carried out today. I'm hoping they can tell me how much time is left in your first heat this time.''

And all that remaining crumbs of happiness left from the witcher have disappeared completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of information: I'm a trainee solicitor, and in about three months, I'm officially going to be a lawyer. The other day, I came across a case file. The subject was about sexual abuse against the child and its content affected me greatly. Half of the events you read here are things that have happened. I decided to use a small piece of what happened there to make the story more realistic and to raise some awareness. I know how sensitive child abuse is, I certainly don't claim to be a professional but I've spent nine months in this industry. I also have a book published in my own country. What I mean, I did research on this subject before I was even a trainee.
> 
> I know how to approach things a little bit, and in this case, I will try to reflect along with Geralt and others (his pack) on how we should approach the victims. And we'll see how Jaskier is affected by the events. (I repeat: I'm not a professional. I'm just going to pass on the information I've learned so far, what I've watched and my observations at the trials.)
> 
> I have no intention of making the story too dark. There will be angst, comfort and as well as fluff, so don't worry!


	4. Cry Of A Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Millions thanks to my sweet beta again and again for taking her time and editing this story. You're really a great person.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse against child  
> Sort of non-consensual touching
> 
> Also some people call Jaskier as Julian, like Johann(healer) and Henrick(because he's a dick)

**CRY OF A SOUL**

_Julian ran to his mother, crying._

_He was scared. He was very, very scared._

_A few buttons on his shirt were severed and it opened wide enough to reveal half of his chest. His uncle's prints were all over the exposed area. He was covered in purple-red marks around his neck that showed his uncle sucked his skin, fingermarks and scratches as uncle Marco grazed his teeth over him. The front of his breeches was also kind of open. When his uncle had his fill and then released him, Julian didn't try too hard to tidy himself up and run straight out of bed to get out of the room. He fell down a few times on the way because his pants were wrapped around his ankles, and finally he was more conscious about buttoning his pants._

_It had been two years since his uncle started touching him that way. For two years, Julian couldn't tell anyone what he was going through. Not even his father, and that was so hard for him. His uncle had threatened to hurt his father and even his own sister who was Julian’s mother, and even worse to kill them if he let anything slip out of his mouth. Julian couldn't do anything out of fear. Sometimes at night, when he woke up crying from his nightmares, he tried to calm and assure himself that everything will be alright somehow, and in the morning he tried to put a brave mask on his face even if everything hurts him at the moment._

_Even when Uncle Marco ended his annual visits and left the mansion, Julian constantly felt him as if his presence was still here. He was not as cheerful as he used to be, he didn’t enjoy the games, sweets turned into a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard to live with the thoughts in his head, and it was even harder because he didn't know how to handle it. He was one step behind all the time, preventing him from enjoying life, laughing and having fun. His mother wasn't complaining about it though, he wasn't making as much noise as he used to be and she was happy with it, he had finally become the son she always wanted. But his father knew something was wrong with him. Most of the time when he tried to talk to him, Julian usually tried to get rid of his father by offering him his most carefree, heartfelt smile. He couldn't let them both know the truth._

_And he felt guilty for putting them in danger. If he could stop his uncle, if he could stop all this, none of this would be happening in the first place. Instead of running down the hallway crying, he could be teaming up with Madeline, picking daisies and making crowns with them. But no, Julian couldn't stop or prevent his uncle. The only thing he could do to protect his family was to put up with all this quietly and meet his uncle's wishes._

_Even worse, Julian sometimes... sometimes he enjoyed his uncle's touch. And just thinking about it scared him so much that it made him want to scrape off his own skin and get rid of all the scars. What was wrong with him? Surely something must have gone wrong, had his uncle finally managed to corrupt him? Julian was always disgusted by the way he touched his private parts. As much as he tried to loosen his body as his uncle wanted, he was always stretched like a bow, never ever relaxed. But in a very interesting and strange way, every time his uncle's hand went to his peepee, it was as hard as his. Julian couldn't understand why he reacted like that. Why was his private area starting to harden when he was scared out of his mind? Why was that giving him pleasure? Was he turning into a horrible man like his uncle?_

_Julian sobbed. He couldn't take much more of this, the secret was literally ruining him. While he wanted to live like everyone else his age, his uncle always took it away from him. He couldn't live like this. He couldn’t._

_When he got to his mother's room, he walked straight in without trying to announce he was coming. His father had not yet returned from his hunt this morning, so he could easily slip inside their chamber. His mother jumped out of her seat as he stormed in. Her book which was standing on her lap fell to her feet, then a harsh expression came to her face the moment she saw him._

_"Julian.’’_

_Ignoring her voice, that sounded even harder than the expression on her face, Julian ran towards her mother and clung to the skirts of her dress. He was sure he'd messed up the dress with his tears and snot, but Julian couldn't stop himself. He almost choked on his breath as his heart thundered inside him in fear of his uncle coming back._

_"Julian. You know, I hate crying-‘’_

_Julian interrupted her by hugging her tighter._

_‘‘I'm sorry. I’m sorry mom.’’_

_‘‘Why are you apologizing? What did you do again?’’_

_"I-I, my u-un-uncle...’’_

_"Julian." A poor whimper came out of his throat when his mother placed her hands on his shoulders, exerting force to push him away a bit from herself. He didn't want to be removed. He needed a warmth that wouldn't hurt him, to feel a little bit safe. But his mother, as usual, ignored his wishes and looked into his eyes, which were shining with tears. ’‘I don't understand anything when you cry like that. Now take a deep breath and start telling me from the beginning what the problem is.’’_

_‘‘Will you be mad at me if I tell you?’’_

_‘’I need to know what you did first, right?’’_

_Julian looked at his mother with eyes blurred by tears. There was not the slightest expression of concern for him on her face, her dark eyes resembling the ice a of cold winter’s day. Julian's fingers started rubbing each other in circles. He couldn't predict his mother's reaction. Was she going to help him? After what he told her, maybe, in the slightest, she'd be there for him. For two years, he was exactly what his mother wanted. Good, quiet, unobtrusive... Couldn't she have saved him from his uncle in return? From her own brother?_

_"Julian, will you start talking? I don’t have time for this.’’_

_Julian closed his eyes and ears after looking at his mother for the last time. He tried to maintain his upright posture while he explained what he experienced for two years one by one, although he felt a strong need to look at his mother while he was spilling everything, he suppressed his need and did not look at her until it was over. He knew if he saw the look on her face like he feared, he couldn't go through with it. Even now, he was shaking like a leaf._

_What he did wasn't right, he was quite aware that he was putting his mother at risk, but he couldn't stop the words. He wanted to tell them, to know, to understand that he could no longer fight alone with this and in need of immediate help. Wrong and right were thoroughly intertwined, it was very difficult to discern the line in between. Julian wanted to know why he felt this way before he got lost, why he liked it when his uncle touched ‘there’ event hough he was disgusted by the touches and scared of him._

_Was that normal? Or wasn’t it? How could he carry two emotions that were so opposite to each other at the same time? He didn't want to be like his uncle. He didn't want to turn into someone like him, to strike fear into others. But what if, over the past two years, his touches have started to change him? After all, when his hand went there,-_  
_Julian swallowed hard._

_This was wrong. There must be a mistake in it._

_He wasn’t supposed to feel like this._

_When his throat was dry enough and his recounting was over, he first pulled his hands from over his ears. When Julian could not hear any words from his mother, he opened his eyes then, event hough he was afraid and looked at his mother behind his lashes, in shame for what he had done. It had been a long few minutes, as Julian nervously waited for his mother to say something, his mother glanced at him with only cold eyes, offering neither a word nor an expression that broke the mask of her face.. Squeezing the ends of his chemise, Julian couldn't stand the silence any longer and called out to his mother in a small voice._

_"Mom? Aren't you gonna say anything?" Julian held on to her skirt with one hand as his mother continued to be unresponsive. "Mom? Mommy? Please say something.’’_

_‘‘How many people?" His mother nailed him to where he was with eyes that looked harder than before and gave out her breath, which she had been holding for minutes. ‘’How many people know about this?’’_

_‘’Only you. I-I didn't tell anyone else. I swear, mother-‘’_

_His mother interrupted him._

_‘’Good. That’s good. We can't risk anyone knowing that. Especially your father. I hope you realize how serious this situation is, Julian.’’_

_‘‘Yes of course, mother-‘’_

_‘’Don't interrupt me when I'm talking." Julian staggered one step back, startled. As his hand moved away from his mother's outfit, his heart began to speed up again. Why was his mother looking at him like that? Her facial expression had frozen all the blood in his body at the moment. ‘’What you went through with your uncle must remain a secret. You don't want to embarrass your father, do you?’’_

_Julian quietly agreed. Tears were starting to clog his eyes and throat again._

_‘’Good. Do you want to make us happy?’’_

_‘‘More than anything." Julian said in a voice resembling a whisper. ‘’Especially you, mom.’’_

_‘’Then you have to take care of this problem like a grown man. This is your problem, so you have to solve it. After all, you will rule this land in the future my son, if you cannot overcome such a small problem, what kind of viscount do you intend to become in the future?’’_

_‘’You w-won’t help me?’’_

_Julian tried to stop his tears. But he couldn't, the more he thought about what was going to happen, the narrower his rib cage became, his heart stuck in it. How could he fight his uncle alone? He wanted to take refuge in his mother because his power was not enough to stop his uncle, and now his mother was pushing him back towards the nightmare that was waiting for him again. As the horror took over Julian’s entire body, his sobs made his throat ache._

_‘‘You should have stopped your uncle in the first place. But you couldn't, you have to fix this failure.’’_

_’But I didn't do anything wrong.’_

_His own voice echoed inside his head as tears crept down his cheeks like a waterfall._

_He hasn't done anything wrong._

_He hasn't done..._

_He hasn't done, right?_

***

Jaskier tried to remain calm while lying face down on the bed.

His lower body was naked, he felt exposed and vulnerable. He was red with shame from cheeks to his neck. Henrick came over and placed his hand on the top of his head, while Jaskier moved his face to the pillow a little more as Henrick’s fingers wandered in his hair.

"Did you clean yourself well?''

"Yes, master.''

''Good." Henrick kissed the top of his head in a delightful voice. Jaskier trembled in disgust, but managed to stay still, ready for what was about to happen. "You can start.''

Henrick withdrew from his side. Immediately afterwards, when an obvious weight collapsed on the end of the bed, he realized that the healer was sitting behind him. The healer was a middle-aged man, he had greyish hair and calloused fingers brought by his profession. His name was Johann, and every year since he got here, he'd come to check on him under Henrick's watch.

Henrick wanted to mate with him, it was never a secret. Every time Henrick saw him, touched him, tasted him, those were the words that spilled from his lips. Each omega would have had their first heat within a year after their second gender revealed, but Jaskier’s case was different, maybe a little abnormal. He turned out to be omega at the age of twelve, and although he had reached the age of eighteen, he had still not experienced his first heat. He was grateful for that, it’s making Henrick stay away from him.

Stories has it that if an omega was bitten by an alpha during their heat, the mark would bind them. No one knew if the bond would last forever, or if it would disappear after a while. Jaskier feared both possibilities. The thought of being tied to Henrick for a while with a deeper bond that could not be severed by any force was terrible.

He would rather kill himself than be sealed to a monster with such a sacred bond without his consent. The thought had crossed his mind many times, but every time he got near the edge, there was one thing that held him back; _his family_. Even though they got rid of him, he couldn’t let the lands his father loved from vast green fields to its ants, be destroyed under Henrick’s wrath. He might not have been liked by some of them there but Jaskier loved Lettenhove and the people in there. He would rather sacrifice himself for it than dishonor the memory of his father and let the people there be harmed by his selfishness.

Johann's hands went to his penis. His hands wandered over his length, grasping him gently. Then, as he began to touch his balls, Jaskier fidgeted in disgrace.

"Relax, son, it'll be over soon.''

When Johann stroked his back in a friendly manner and then grabbed his butt cheeks with both hands, Jaskier’s eyes began to burn. His body was taught, his breath laboured as his hands squeezed the covers above the bed. He didn't like this part at all.

"Relax.''

Jaskier took a deep breath to do what he said. When the healer opened his cheeks, looking at his exposed hole for a while, then touching his oil-soaked finger into his entrance, Jaskier instinctively pushed himself forward to get rid of his touch.

"Julian, son, if you relax, your exam will be over in a few minutes. Try to keep yourself calm, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.''

Jaskier nodded quietly and took a deep breath, pulling his body back again to give Johann access. Johann placed one hand on the small of his back to hold him steady, and Jaskier closed his eyes when he touched his entrance once more. As the healer began to carefully push his finger slowly into him, Jaskier bit the pillow to suppress his whimper. It didn't hurt, but it made him feel uncomfortable.

Being exposed in this way, not being able to act as he wished and being vulnerable triggered his memories of the past. It was very easy for him now to imagine Johann as his uncle. If the fog began to corrupt his head, he would let himself go, time and persons would change their shape instantly.  
He strove to maintain his composure by gripping the covers tighter.

_Stay calm, Jas. Stay calm. It'll be over soon, stay calm._

When the second finger joined the first, Jaskier let out a muffled whimper as he kind of sobbed. Now he could feel the slight, painful tingling. Although he tried not to put pressure on Johann's fingers by taking deep breaths, he could feel that he’s failing miserably.

Fortunately the examination did not extend any further, Jaskier bringing down his lower body which remained in the air when Johann withdrew his fingers without saying anything.

"Yes? What's his status?" Henrick said, breaking the silence and speaking for the first time after the painful minutes.

"His walls are too dry, he has not gained the ability to lubricate himself yet.''

"So? Speak plainly, healer.''

"So sir, I don't think he's going to be in heat any time soon. His body is not in any preparation for it.''

Henrick cursed while Jaskier tried to hide his relief, stirring up from where he lay. Trying not to make eye contact with Henrick, he tended to his trousers, which sat at the end of the bed. He was aware of the count's angry gaze following his movements, but he could not worry about it as he was still carrying the effects of the examination.

"Well then, how much longer do you think he's got?''

"It's hard to say anything in this situation. It's not unheard of for omegas to be late in heat. You have no choice but to wait, sir. There's no potion or elixir to speed up the process.''

Jaskier tried to act fast as he began to put on his pants. He could sense how dissatisfied Henrick was with the situation. The count's angry voice was heard when he managed to button his buttons quickly despite his trembling fingers.

"Get out. And don't you dare come back until I say so.''

Jaskier walked out of the room without a second thought. He knew they'd talk behind his back, but he didn't have the strength to stop and listen. He quickly went through the hallways, out of the mansion, and ran to the stables, throwing himself inside. Inside it smelled like hay, dirt and horses, and the hot temperature of the air made the smell a little more dominant and intense than normal. But Jaskier embraced the scent as if it were his second self, this was the place where he was comfortable enough to sleep at night, the smell didn't bother him in the slightest.

Greg was the first to notice him. The big stallion whinnied around, moved his head around and swung his black mane. Soon after Beast, which was a young grey stallion greeted him, whinnying just like Greg. Jaskier smiled at both horses and rubbed on top of his heart, trying to calm himself. This was his safe space. Henrick rarely came to the stables just to see him. Usually he'd rather send one of his men to invite him over, because he hated the possibility that the smell would creep in on him.

Jaskier stroked the velvet-soft nose of both horses in turn. He loved animals, it was easier to get along with them, they weren't like people. Everything was plain and obvious, there was no second implication or intent underlying the words. They approached him the same way Jaskier approached them. Horses were particularly helpful in maintaining his mindset. They were majestic animals, loyal, strong and resilient. Jaskier was able to notice the relaxation in his body as he took care of them. Maybe he was pitiful because he could find comfort in a horse, but he didn't care. He was trying to hold on to every branch he could reach to keep himself intact.

Greg and Beast (although this name could not be used for such a beautiful horse) were making this hell somewhat good. Standing by their bodies while Jaskier combed their manes to make them look like dazzling silk, feeling their warmth and the power they radiated, was good for him. They calmed his thoughts and kept his head quiet for a while. Sometimes he was hugging them, hearing their heartbeat coming from under their thick skin along with their warmth made Jaskier even happier. And he couldn't be ashamed of himself for being happy about it. He had stopped questioning his point a while ago, tired of feeling miserable every time, doing nothing more than pulling him to the bottom. He was happy in this stable and in his own little dream world that he had built in his mind, he didn't need any more.

After patting Greg's head a little more, he moved into his own stall. Inside, there was a small gas lamp, an old, nearly yellowed notebook, a quill and a few other personal items. There was a small maid room in the manor, but Jaskier preferred here anyway. The winters were a little rough, but it was a lot better than being within easy reach of Henrick.

He laid himself on top of his bed, which was made up of a makeshift pile of hay and had a thin covering on top of it. The shame and humiliation of his examination still made his skin tingle, but the terrible feeling in his head had been erased from him, feeling a little better and more resilient. Pulling his legs towards himself, Jaskier placed his chin on his knees.

He wondered if he could see the witcher coming back. He didn't know what kind of monster he was going to face, but he knew he was going to come back alive and bring the head of the monster that Henrick wanted him to kill. He had complete confidence in the witcher about this. When his thoughts concentrated on the witcher with a familiar habit, he failed to notice when his eyes closed and fall asleep. The only thing that adorned his mind were a pair of golden eyes and moonlight-colored hair.

Jaskier slept for a while with the peace his own dream world gave him. It was not such a deep, wakeless sleep as his body was accustomed to being alert, that years ago he had learned not to fully release himself into the vulnerability of sleep. But at this moment, it was as if he lay on the clouds rather than on the hard dried hay, and what made it real and _felt real_ , was the scent familiar to Jaskier, which managed to suppress the stables’ pungent smell.

_Ash._

_Skin._

_The moist soil._

_Grass._

_Raindrops._

_Freedom._

Jaskier opened his eyes. His brain was still lethargic, his gaze misty, so all of this had to be part of his dream. He couldn't have seen the witcher crouching in front of him.

Jaskier didn't bother to blink his eyes, fearing his dream would deteriorate and become entangled in nothingness, so he calmly gazed the witcher through the slackness of sleep. The details on the man were new, several parts of his armor were punctured, part of his face was covered in something black. Jaskier couldn't make out exactly what was on his face. Maybe it was blood, maybe it was ashes. What did it matter anyway? A few minutes later, the witcher would be gone.

‘‘I wish I could go with you." Jaskier said quietly. When he reached out with one hand and tried to touch him, the witcher staggered back, while Jaskier offered a grim smile against his movement. ‘‘I can't even touch you in my dream.’’

‘’It's not safe.’’

‘‘I know that." Jaskier ignored his harsh voice when answering him. ‘’But I want it. And your smell calms me. I like it, I like it so much that it hurts.’’  
His dream was more realistic than before. There could be no other explanation for the fact that he could smell his addictive scent so clearly even in his dream. He felt so safe, sheltered and peaceful that he couldn't stop his eyelids from going down again.

 _Strange_.

Was he dreaming within a dream?

But then how his eyes were open?

‘’This is not a dream." Jaskier blinked with the sudden awareness and got support from his elbows to straighten up. ‘’You're real. W-What are you doing here? Henrick-the monster...?’’

Unable to continue his sentence, the witcher drew a symbol in the air with his hand, and Jaskier instantly felt a strange void in his mind. His thoughts, which began to surface, were suddenly cut off half-way, almost as if they never existed.

‘’What you saw was only a dream. You never saw me come here, it was all part of the dream.’’

Even though the witcher was right across him, it sounded like he was coming from a very remote, hard-to-reach place. Jaskier felt his throat stick. He had so much to say to him, but the witcher was leaving, leaving him without even letting him say a word.

Still, Jaskier defied the command - he didn't even know how to do it- and muttered in a broken voice.

‘’Don’t go.’’

‘’This is all just a dream.’’

‘’Don’t go.’’

Although Jaskier tried to make his voice a little stronger, he couldn't even hear it himself. He could now feel the witcher's power, as well as the emptiness that surrounded his mind. He was forcing him to obey his command, demanding him to go back to sleep harshly. As his sight began to darken, he panicked and, despite everything, reached out and tried to touch the witcher again.

‘’Don’t go.’’

Witcher did not retreat from his touch this time. He held his hand, with his large gloved hand and wrapped his powerful fingers around it, which Jaskier reached out helplessly to touch him. Jaskier breathed with relief he felt under his touch, there was no way he could resist the sleep that attracted him, in a matter of seconds everything would go dark. Just before he lost consciousness, he shook the witcher's hand with scrawny force and whispered.

‘’Please.’’

He received neither an answer nor any similar response in return. He couldn't hear anything, and everything he saw was a black, vast darkness. Jaskier glided into obscurity, confident that he was no longer in the dream as he began to regain consciousness of the outside world. The hay underneath was hard, and the cover on top was still and cheap enough to irritate his exposed skin.

When he opened his eyes, he tried to suppress the disappointment that had been lying on his stomach. The witcher was gone as if he had never been there, but his distinct, addictive smell in the air meant that all this had really happened, wasn’t his imagination. The witcher came here to see him. A simple, worthless omega.

As Jaskier tried to make sense of what had happened, he realized that he was not alone. Someone's shadow was falling on him. Within seconds, the confusion turned to fear, and when he turned his head to the owner of the shadow, he confronted with Henrick.

Him being here could only mean one thing; something terrible had happened. Or it was about to happen.

The count looked very different from his usual ‘proper’ state. He was leaning against the entrance of the door, holding a long wine bottle in one hand. His hair was scattered as if he had his hands through it repeatedly, his shirt sticking out of his trousers and his front was open almost to the end. But it was the bizarre expression in his gaze that frightened him more than the clutter of his appearance. His eyebrows were furrowed, the parts of his eyes that were white were slightly watered and red. His eyes, which looked as if he was having trouble finding his focus, filled Jaskier with emotion that was more than disturbing.

He had seen that expression in one before.

_On his uncle._

Jaskier began to tremble where he was with a horror that rose above fear. Henrick took a big sip from the bottle, and Jaskier couldn't quell his fearful outcry as Henrick began to invade by stepping into his space while wiping his mouth on his arm. Jaskier crawled backwards on his butt and tried to distance himself from the count, but he knew he couldn't get any results. Henrick was pushing Jaskier a little further into the corner with every step he took.

With one step between them, Henrick spoke with a determined voice that came out as ice.

"I will wait no longer, omega. You'll be mine tonight.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify: Yes Geralt went to Jaskier to look at his soulmate one more time before they separate again (Or will they?). ( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛) We'll see Geralt's perspective in later chapters. And also Geralt hun, where are you going???
> 
> It will get worse before it will get better, I promise.
> 
> And thank you for the lovely comments, I really appreciate them <3


	5. Save Me, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LOOK AT THE END NOTE BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE CONTENT WARNINGS!
> 
> From the chapter;
> 
> ‘’Please. I'll do whatever you want, just-just help me, please." Jaskier put aside his pride and clung to the man's feet. His chest was covered in vomit, his neck was painted in blood, and his entire body was drenched in sweat. There was no doubt that he looked disgusting and smelled awful, but he needed help. And this man-the witcher-was the only one who could help him at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, me and my beta both working so chapters can be late. Sometimes, even if I finish the chapter in a day or two, it takes a while for my beta to find time to read and edit it. This chapter has not yet been read by beta, but I wanted to share it because I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. Since English is not my native language, there may be errors and miss-spellings. When my beta reads it, I'll re-share it again. So in short, I need a second beta, if anyone is interested and want to help me with this story, please leave a comment in the comments section.^^

**SAVE ME, PLEASE**

_''Father?''_

_''Yes, my little dandelion?''_

_"Does my mother hate me?''_

_His father looked at him with bewildered eyes, lifting his head from the book he was reading._  
_"What kind of question is that? Your mother loves you more than anything, Julian." His father stroked his hair and pulled the long tufts that fell before his eyes, and touched his cheek lovingly, looking at his face with eyes that looked both a little sad and a little curious. "What makes you think that?''_

_"I don't know." Julian sighed and leaned a little further into his father's lap. ''Sometimes... Sometimes I think she doesn't really love me. It's like-No, I feel like she hates me. Or-Or something more than that.''_

_"Julian-"_

_"Was she like this when I was born too?''_

_''No." said his father in single breath. His answer had come out of his lips so quickly that Julian felt the need to look at him, curiously raising his head from his father’s lap. His father's face was shadowed by a feeling that Julian couldn't read, his eyes shone as if he remembers those moments again._

_"Your mother was so happy when you were born. She had the most perfect, brightest smile you could ever see on her face.''_

_"Really?''_

_''Really.''_

_Julian's eyebrows were slightly furrowed as he tried to consider the image, making it very difficult to imagine his mother smiling wholeheartedly. Although he had a vast imagination, he couldn't imagine what her face would look like. When Julian failed, he sighed and opened his eyes to look at his father again. His father's face now had a faraway expression, and his lips curved into a small, tender smile._

_"Your mother was a really beautiful woman." His father's voice slightly thickened by the intensity of his emotions. "She was so loving. Tender, sincere, warm.''_

_"Why are you talking about her like she's dead?" Julian panicked. Though his father spoke in a rather soft voice, Julian was quite disturbed by the way he spoke of his mother as if she had died. His father instantly captured his discomfort and calmed his concerns by fondly stroking his cheek._

_"People change over time, Julian. Your mother, unfortunately, has been through so much and had to endure. Her anger isn't at you but at me.''_

_"To you?" Julian turned to lie completely on his back so that he could look at his father's face more comfortably. "But you're her soulmate, aren't you? She can’t stay mad at you forever.''_

_"Oh my sweet boy, your heart is so pure... Your mother and I are not soulmates.''_

_"But you're married." Julian said like a question. He couldn't understand, weren't they married because they were already soulmates?_

_"Everyone has a soulmate, but not everyone is lucky enough to find their selected one.''_

_"So you're not my mother's mate, are you father?''_

_''I’m afraid, I’m not.''_

_"That's so sad. Does that mean you don't love her?''_

_His father just smiled at his question for a while. His soothing hand wandered through his hair, as Julian's prying eyes were over his father’s face. Madeline had told him so many stories about soulmates, and Julian had a terrible hunger to learn even more. He was very curious about how soulmates could feel each other's feelings, how they could still find each other wherever they were, and how many other things like that waiting to be discovered. It was like magic, but he knew there was so much more to it than that. Madeline has said many times that the bond between soulmates is stronger and more inseparable than anything that exists._

_"Of course I love your mother. She's a strong woman, but you don't have to be someone’s soulmate to love a person. I love your mother the way you love me.''_

_"So what makes soulmates so special?''_

_"Can you imagine what it feels like to be completed by someone so different from you?" When Julian shaked his head as a no, his father smiled as if he was already waiting for him to give that answer. "Every living being is born with half a soul, he or she is the only one on earth who can complete you, make you feel whole. If destiny really wants you to find the other half of your soul, you meet her-him. Mates never meet by chance, everything happens are in the consent of destiny. You believe it or not.''_

_"How am I supposed to know if someone is my mate?''_

_"You'll know when you see them.''_

_His father kissed the top of his head._

_"Is it that simple?''_

_"It's that simple.''_

_Julian hugged his father tightly, leaning his head against his chest so that he could hear his heartbeat. He loved hugging him like that, hearing his calmly beating heart made him feel both comforted and sheltered from the outside world._

_"Do you think my soulmate will love me?''_

_"There's not a single reason why they shouldn't love you, little dandelion.''_

_"You say that because you’re my father." Julian taunted him playfully. His father pulled the ends of his hair with a small laugh at that._

_"Souls belong to each other, they’re the only one in the world who can understand you better than anyone else. Even from us.''_

_Thinking about what he said Julian hugged his father again, his eyes slowly closing, and his father wrapped him in his arms and turned him sideways to make his body more comfortable. Without lifting his head from where he was leaning, Julian muttered in a quite voice, showing that he was about to fall into a brief slumber._

_"Do you think I'll ever find my soulmate, father?''_

_At his question, his father hugged him tightly like he feared he’ll be disappear in a moment. Julian wandered in the confines of sleep as his father left small, loving kisses on top of his head. He was always happy to be with his father, this was a sheltered place where no one could hurt him, on purpose or not. His father was a strong man, maybe not as strong as a witcher, but he was invincible nonetheless._

_Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard his father's soft, quiet voice coming out like an evening breeze._

_"As far as I'm concerned, you've already found **him** , my little dandelion.''_

***

Jaskier remained in place with the sense of dread that captured him.

The count took another sip from the bottle in his hand, taking advantage of his motionlessness, and dropped to the ground, kneeling in front of him.

"I've been waiting a long time for this moment, omega. Right now, I'm so tired of waiting for your damn heat to come.''

When Henrick gripped him by the arms, Jaskier trembled so hard under his touch that his lower jaw collided with the top. There was a great noise coming from his teeth, and before he could worry if he broke his teeth, Henrick put him down. He easily climbed on top of him and pinned him on both sides with his long legs and kept him steady as Jaskier lay underneath, dried hays poking his skin.

Jaskier could not breathe for a moment, trapped between the feelings of panic, fear and the feeling of helplessness of being squeezed. It was like he had fallen into a swamp where he would be drawn more and more as he struggled. How was he going to get out of this mass that was swooped on him?

"It must be nice to walk around every day, showing your skin like a whore. That's how you took the witcher with you right? Answer me!''

"No, sir." Jaskier said in a fearful voice. Under the count's increasing alpha pheromones, it was a struggle in itself to be able to speak while breathing was already a difficult task for him to success. The pheromones were suffocating him, his entire throat felt like made up with dry cottons. As well as being unable to swallow, the offending smell of the alpha had left a bitter, tangible taste in his mouth.

"Don't lie to me, omega." Henrick hissed through his teeth like a venomous snake and slapped him with the back of his hand. Jaskier's head swung to the side, his ears ringing as the bitter taste of blood came into his mouth. He didn't even try to rub it in to soothe the sharp stinging on his cheek, lying motionless where he was, waiting for Henrick's next move with dreadful eyes.

He was an alpha, so it was easy for him to dominate his will. His pheromones forced Jaskier to obey to his most primal parts, bending his will so that he had no choice but to submit, and even when he thought otherwise it did hurt him greatly. Omegas could not disobey alphas, it was against their submissive nature. But if the alpha marks the omega and bonds with them, then the other alphas' pheromones would be ineffective on the omega.

Jaskier was miraculously an unmarked omega, no one had intended to stuck their teeth into his skin yet. His uncle sometimes grazed his teeth around the tender areas of his body and bit him slightly, but he never bit hard enough to create a bond. During his time at Oxenfurt, Jaskier had only tried innocent things like kissing, never letting anyone try more on him, he was not so brave to let things go like other people did so easily.

"Master please, you're not in your right mind. Let me call someone for you.’’

Jaskier made a move to escape, but it was impossible to move an inch under Henrick's size. His weight was crushing his bones, putting incredible pressure on his lungs literally suffocating him.

‘’Shut your pretty mouth. I decide what I want, not you.’’

The count leaned a little more towards him and Jaskier’s body stiffened hard as Henrick kissed him harshly. One of Henrick’s hand grasped his throat, his fingers squeezing him brutally, making it harder for him to breathe as he already struggled with that and then, Jaskier tasted the metallic, sour savor of the blood on his tongue. Not only was Henrick biting, he was making a serious effort to really hurt him, to overawe him where he was. And it was working.

Jaskier tried to respond to the kiss to avoid further pain, but he trembled violently as he contemplated what would happen next.

‘‘Open your mouth." Henrick gripped his face with his other hand, squeezed his cheeks to apply more pressure. Jaskier whimpered helplessly and felt more blood and pain as he opened his mouth. ‘’You've always been a naughty boy haven't you, Julian?" Henrick said in between painful kisses. ‘’That's why you're here now." His lips landed on his chin, and as he kisses, bites and scratches his jawline from beginning to end with his canines, Jaskier looked at the ceiling and wished that the alcohol had kicked in and Henrick would lost consciousness, begging any god to hear his silent prayings. ‘‘Your mother is undoubtedly a very intelligent woman, she knew what she was doing when she left you here.’’

‘’What?" Jaskier turned his eyes again towards the count, trying to perceive what he was saying. Henrick offered him a coy smile, his hands practically tearing open the front of his outfit, while the cool evening air made Jaskier shudder, the thin hair that enveloped his complexion instantly rose into the air, reacting to the cold.

‘’Oh, I didn't tell you, did I?" Henrick reached out and bit his earlobe. ‘’Your mother sold you to me. Six hundred gold, you were pretty expensive for an omega, but she said it would worth it. Omegas are rare creatures, especially male omegas. I've never seen one as beautiful and small as you.’’

‘’What?" Jaskier said again like a fool. Did he hear right? Did his mother sell him out? He felt like he was pierced in the brain, his tongue turned into mush while he started babbling, trying to make sense of the words. ‘’B-But what about debts? I thought we were in debt-’’

Henrick laughed at his poorly sounded words. Jaskier's eyes watered as the count’s voice thundered beneath his ear. All these years... Did he really live all these years believing a lie? This was even heavier than what he believed, he couldn't have been... He couldn't have been sold for sum gold. His mother couldn't have hated him so much.

"There was no debt, omega. You'd be surprised how rich your family actually is." Henrick began to leave kisses on his neck. ‘‘Your mother wanted to get rid of you and found the solution in me.’’ He nibbled his collarbone. "Omegas cannot own land, for her you were no different than a fancy item standing in the corner. Why would anyone keep an item that doesn't do anything right?’’ Henrick attacked his other collarbone and after the same rought treatment, he started to suck the delicate skin that revealed by his opened shirt.

‘’Since she wanted to get rid of you, you must have been quite a naughty boy, hmm? Tell me, Julian, were you a naughty boy?’’

Jaskier didn't know what to say. Everything had stopped for him, time had no meaning right now. During the three years he spent here, he lived believing in submission, in acceptance that this was true, that this was his fate. He did it all to protect Lettenhove from Henrick. Because he thought - _naively_ \- they were in debt and could really do something in their favor, he might eventually come to some use, so that his mother could be proud of him enough to stare at his face for longer than a few seconds. He had quietly accepted everything directed at him. Because he believed there was something more valuable at the end of it.

And in the end, everything was a big lie.

Since her mother was able to do this evil to him, _his son_ , she must have hated him more than he ever imagined because he couldn't fit her brutality into any other logical framework. What mother would sell her son for money?

He gave out a little hiccup as tears streamed down his cheeks. So he was so unimportant that from the beginning, her mother saw him as a troublesome burden that she had to get rid of quickly. _Omega_. Was it all because of his second gender? Jaskier tilted his head to the side. _No_. From the moment he could remember, his mother had always shown him her cold face, never once had she truly given him a taste of her love, never protected him from anyone or anything. His father had done everything for him, and when he died, his mother should have looked for ways to get rid of him at the first opportunity.

So it was no coincidence that he was kidnapped from Oxenfurt, he now understands that. Everything was planned, he was sold as an item for a sum of gold.

‘‘I've just come across an omega that's going through a heat. She was a sweet petite woman, a little wild too." Henrick laughed like he was remembering those moments again.

‘‘Myths always said that male omega's heats are a little more mythical. _Hotter, more passionate._ After all, they are less likely to have children than women. So their need to get pregnant is stronger than the females, which makes the mating period much hotter.’’

Henrick's voice turned to a growl. Wherever he could reach, he began to tear down his skin with small but persistent nips, drawing blood with his teeth. Jaskier made another pitiful whimper, wanting to get out of him desperately.

‘‘First year, I waited your heat like a patient man I am, and when nothing happened, together we found good ways to use your mouth, didn't we love?’’

Henrick's lips captured his neck, as Jaskier was sickened by his alcoholic breath, the count’s alpha pheromones crawling all over him, making him feel incredibly helpless and miserable. All he wanted to do was obey under the pheromones that subdued him. His body and mind were no longer able to resist the need to comply, his stubborness made a great amount of pain to grit his teeth. He was losing this battle.

‘’Then the second year came and it was starting to piss me off that I couldn't see any signs about your heat. But I waited, I knew if I waited, sooner or later it would be worth it. But that damn smell," he rubbed his nose around his throat. ‘’It's so beautiful, all I want to do is taste you, and I can't resist it any longer. Tonight," Henrick dropped a little kiss where his neck and shoulder meet. ‘‘you're finally mine.’’

Then he bit his neck. Jaskier screamed, thinking he could use his hands for the first time, and tried to push Henrick over to throw his bulk away. When he realized it was useless, his tears increased its speed and he tried to breathe through his clogged windpipe with a blank effort. He was hurting, his whole body was burning like it was on fire. When he felt something wet on his shoulder, he knew he was bleeding. He was dizzy and for a while, he was engulfed in a strange feeling like he was swimming in deep depths of an ocean.

When he came to himself, he felt persistent tugging at his lower body, with his eyes having difficulty at focusing he looked down and saw Henrick trying to open his pants.

‘‘No, no, no!’’

Jaskier tried to break free with all his might. He wasn't going to let this happen, he was determined to protect his last remaining piece. He wasn't going to lose that either. He'd die fighting if he had to, he didn't care. It didn't matter if he was alive or not anymore, he didn't have a home to protect. He was never needed from the beginning. There was no debt, no serious threat. There was only a young man who looked as insignificant as a piece of garbage to be thrown around.

‘’Shut up." Henrick licked the blood on his lips and teeth. "It'll hurt less if you don't move, Julian, stay still." Henrick growled angrily when Jaskier scratched his face doing exactly the opposite. ‘‘I said stay still!" When he was punched in the face, Jaskier's head flung to the side and he briefly counted the stars flying over his head. A little more blood came into his mouth, the right side of his face burned in terrible pain, and when he collapsed, his gaze found the whine bottle standing just a little away from him. ‘‘That's it, quiet and calm. Don't you dare to move, unless you want something worse.’’

Jaskier didn't listen to him. After looking at the bottle for the last time, clinging to his little bravery he made his decision and looked at Henrick, who was standing on top of him.  
He could do it, he just had to act very quickly.

_Come on, Jaskier. You can do this. You can do this._

"Gods, your scent is magnificent. I’m very impatient to get in you- _ahhh!_ ’’

When Jaskier gripped his penis hard Henrick howled in unexpected pain. Jaskier continued to hold his organ firmly without mercy for a moment, and luckily enough, he had to bend it just a little bit to throw the count’s body over him. Jaskier headed straight for the bottle as Henrick leapt over him to escape his cruel grip.

‘’You fucking whore! I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll beg for mercy-‘’

Jaskier crash the bottle over Henrick's head with all his remaining power, once again not allowing him to finish his sentence. As the bottle smashed into Henrick's head, the red liquid spattered everywhere like a blood, and the count's eyes rolled back and fell face down with a dull sound. Jaskier stood breathless where he was for a minute. Was he killed him? Could he have possibly done that?

He poked the man with fearful eyes. When he saw his chest still coming down and up, he fell on his trembling legs. The count had a big, bloody wound on his head, Jaskier didn't know when he will wake up, or wake up at all. Maybe, if he’s lucky enough he'll bleed to death. Jaskier eerily didn't seem too bothered by the possibility of the man dying. Henrick was a monster, it would be better for everyone if he died. Yet he had no intention of standing here and watching his coming death.

Ignoring his scorched body, he began to stuff all his belongings into his bag, which looked like an old potato sack with the straps about to break. It didn't take him a minute to collect his things because he didn't have much to begin with. So he figured out what he was going to do instead when he managed to get out of his stable in a hurry. There were soldiers guarding the entrance of the mansion, and he couldn't walk out of the house like nothing happened, especially looking like this.

His eyes turned to horses. If he took one of them with him, it would increase his chances of escaping. Feeling no need to think more about his simple plan, and in fear of being caught, he went straight to prepare Greg.

‘‘Hey beautiful. You and I are gonna take a little trip, okay?’’

The stallion made a small grunt as if he understood him. Jaskier prepared the horse with a familiar quickness and after tightening the saddle enough, he jumped on him without waiting. His heart was beating at a disastrous rate, like it was going to pop out of his rib cage, and there wasn't even a place in his body that didn't tremble or hurt, but he felt more determined than ever. He could have gotten out of this hell. He just had to try a little harder.

‘‘Hey! What's going on there?!’’

Jaskier nearly has a heart attack when he heard the voice. He had forgotten the other soldiers standing guard around the mansion.

‘’I heard some voices, is everything okay?’’

Jaskier gripped the reins tightly as the footsteps began to come closer.

_You can do this. Don't worry about it, just get out of here. Come on, Come on. You can do it._

‘’Let's go Greg.’’

With his command backed by the reins, Greg walked out of the stables like a storm rocked the ground. Jaskier held on to the animal tightly, Greg was a big stallion, he could easily fall over him if he let himself relax a bit. The stirrups barely touched his feet.

‘’Hey, you! Come back here!’’ Jaskier heard the man yelling from behind, but he didn't care, so he led Greg to the grass fence and prepared both the horse and himself to jump over it. There were no spurs on top of the fence but it was high, Greg might not have been able to jump or get hurt because of his persistence. But for once in his life, Jaskier wanted to be selfish and go after it when he was so close to his freedom.

"Omega is getting away! He’s on the east side!’’

‘’Come on, Greg, come on boy. You can do this.’’

Jaskier held on to the horse a little tighter and prepared himself for the jump and Greg hopped over the fence with incredible elegance, as if the horse had sensed the importance of the situation rather than jumping over a simple fence. Jaskier felt the wind in his hair, on his cheeks, all over his skin left exposed by his torn clothes, and his heart filled with joy. This was really happening!

‘‘You are the most incredible horse in the world, did you know that?’’

Greg whinnied at his words, and while leaving the mansion behind together, Jaskier felt lightened like he were being relieved of a huge, heavy burden. But on the other hand, the wound on his heart was so large and raw that he didn't even know how to breathe properly. Everything hurts. The lies, his thoughts, the bloody bite mark on his neck... It had all brought him a terrible headache and nausea. Maybe it would hurt less if someone stabbed him. He didn't even know how to describe the storm churning his insides, all he could say was that it pained him violently.

He led Greg from place to place without even knowing where he was going. There was nowhere he could call home, and he could not return to Oxenfurt at this time. That would be the first place Henrick would look for him if he woke up, plus he had a lot of people he knew in Oxenfurt. Somehow he didn't want any news about him or his whereabouts to fly Lettenhove. He couldn't bear to face his mother.

Then where would he go? There wasn't much to keep him alive, so how was he going to survive? He wouldn't last a week like that. Yet everywhere was better than returning to Henrick's side or Lettenhove.

As Greg began to slow down, Jaskier closed his eyes in gratitude. He was nauseous and his body... His body was burning with a ferocious heat, as if he was burning in the flames of hell. His hand went around his neck, and when he felt the blood touching his fingers, he realized he was still bleeding non-stop. Swallowing the bile down, he tried not to look around too much, afraid that he’ll succumb to dizziness. But it wasn't working, and when Greg slowed down, it would have been easier for the soldiers to catch him now.

As his heart seized with fear,he spurred Greg to get faster again and the horse instantly fulfilled his command, while Jaskier realised he was not standing properly on top of the saddle. But it was too late, when Greg galloped, his body lifted off the saddle and within seconds, he came face to face with the concrete road.

He moaned in pain, he must have created a big crack on his head because the pain had now risen to a new, undefinable level. Everything around him was intertwined, spinning and spinning and _spinning_ endlessly as if it would never stop. Jaskier just twists like a ball of pain and misery and vomits, unable to suppress the nausea any longer. The only thing came out was acid, as he ate nothing, while his throat burned and he tried to wipe his mouth on his arm in a failed effort.

He was aware of the gaze of the people around him watching, and, worse, he could hear the sound of the guards coming from afar. But he didn't have the strength to move, he seemed to lose it all by falling off the horse. He was feeling incredibly weak and his entire being was on fire. He was burning alive with a breathless pain. It was so hot that if he had the strength, he would almost start skinning his own skin to get rid of the immense heat. The sweat was all over his body as if he'd just come out of the shower.

‘’What the hell?’’

Jaskier heard a raw, powerful male voice. After the sound, the smell came too and he _knew_ that smell. With a pair of black boots looming in front of him, Jaskier suddenly found the strength to lift his head a little and faced with sharp, wolf like golden eyes.

‘’He-help me." Despite the foul taste in his mouth, he swallowed and repeated the words, striving for his voice to come out stronger. ‘’Help me".

‘‘I don't do charity work.’’ The witcher said sternly. His presence looked like an actual wolf now, his top lip thinned over his teeth to show his sharp canines as a warning, voice sounded more animalistic than human and his whole body standing like a predator. Ready to attack his prey and tear them piece by piece. Jaskier’s tremblings get worse by his thoughts, unable to surpress his whimpers he bared his neck to the witcher to show his submission.

‘’Please. I'll do whatever you want, just-just help me, please." Jaskier put aside his pride and clung to the man's feet. His chest was covered in vomit, his neck was painted in blood, and his entire body was drenched in sweat. There was no doubt that he looked disgusting and smelled awful, but he needed help. And this man-the witcher-was the only one who could help him at the moment.

His soul, in spite of all the turmoil loosened with senseless peace that witcher carried with him. Jaskier felt like there were no soldiers coming after him to take him back to the manor, or his mother, knowing that he was an omega and didn't sell him to a vicious alpha to get rid of. There was only this moment. It's this stranger who calms his broken soul.

Jaskier pieced together his calmed thoughts at the opportunity and suddenly made sense of everything. Either he was thinking that now out of shock, or he had managed to hold on to his logic, whatever it was, he knew he was thinking the right thing. Why the witcher's scent is different and incredibly beautiful from everyone else's, why his soul pleading him to stand near this man, why he felt strong need to breathe the same air with him even though he never knew the witcher, why he had dreams about him for years... He never felt these before.

At that very moment, he heard his father's words in his mind.

_'You'll know when you see them.’_

This man was his soulmate. _His chosen one._

"Please," Jaskier said toward his boots, not daring to look at his face. ‘’ _Mate_...My mate, please.’’

The witcher's body was immediately stiffened at his words.

‘’How-‘’

But he couldn’t continue his sentence when both of them heard the loud noises the horses were making on the hard road. They had come to take him back. A fearful whimper rose from his throat and he held on to the witcher so hard that he thought for a moment that he was hurting the man, but Jaskier couldn't help himself. Touching him was preventing his mind from completely panicking.

"The omega at your feet belongs to master Henrick Omar Rholdian who you served couple hours ago. Give him to us witcher, and we’ll pay you again if you not cause us any trouble.’’

‘’Don't! Don’t let them take me." Jaskier sobbed, tried to suppress his rising bile and continued to hold on to him. "Please don't let it happen, ple-please. I-I'd rather die than go there.’’

Almost sounding like a wild animal a fierce growl rose from the witcher, the sound making Jaskier shiver but not cause him to fear the man. He strangely knew that his reaction was not aimed at him.

‘’Did they do this to you?" The witcher said in the deadliest voice that could exist. Jaskier responded shudderingly, he was about to throw up again.

"Hen-Henrick.’’

"Give us the omega, witcher, it's not your business.’’

Jaskier first heard the rustling of clothes, then pulled out another hiccup as he heard the footsteps coming towards them. In response to his reaction, a growl rose from the witcher more stronger than before, it almost sounded ferocious and he heard a deadly whistle announcing that he had removed his sword from his sheath.

"Touch him and you’ll meet your death.’’

‘‘This is not your business." Another said, repeating the words of the other soldier. Jaskier wondered how many there were but couldn't turn his head, couldn't do anything but lie down. His neck caught on fire, tore him to pieces and carried him to the brink of death, little by little.

‘’It's my business now. If you don't want to die, stand back.’’

‘’He can't stay with you. My master would never let it happen!’’

‘‘Try your luck then.’’

Jaskier couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, all he heard was an intense hum. With the witcher moving his grip loosened, the second time- or the third? he could no longer count- when he vomited, he knew he was going to die. His body was convulsing relentlessly with violent shock waves. He had sweated so much that there wasn't a single area where his outfit didn't stick, covering him like a second skin.

When Jaskier felt something covered him, he startled and opened his eyes. As he regained consciousness, he realized that what he was cradled in was a cape, and it smelled exactly the same as the witcher. It probably should have been his. Jaskier's head touched something hard-the chest - as strong arms lifted him up from where he lay and cradled him easily to his body.

Even if he blinked, he couldn't get rid of the blackness that narrowed his sight. He was about to lose consciousness, but for a very brief moment, he found gold-colored eyes watching him intensely. There were bloodstains around his eyes, but Jaskier didn't care, and he used his last remaining power to draw out a meaningful sentence.

‘‘M-mate... Don't leave... Stay.’’

The witcher grasped him more tightly and pressed him against his solid chest as he gave out a feral growl above his head.  
‘‘I'm not going anywhere.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains;
> 
> -Sexual abuse  
> -Attempt at rape  
> -Violence  
> -Blood  
> -Mild language


	6. No One Can Choose Their Soulmate...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Geralt's point of view. (Surprise!)
> 
> From the chapter:
> 
> He's been like that since he met him again.
> 
> Strange, restless, careless... Half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know Joey Batey is as tall as Henry Cavill but I love height differences sooo I made Jaskier a smol bean. But! I'll explain in the later chapters that why he's small, it's just not because he's an omega.
> 
> Also, my Geralt will be a little different from the netflix!geralt. I'll mix the books, games and show to add him more characteristic features. (A little more talkative Geralt won't hurt anyone I think.)
> 
> Lastly, this chapter too is not yet read by beta. So any mistakes you see that were done by me, please inform me if you see any of them (and if you want to be my beta and help me with this story, please leave a comment^^ I'll very much appreaciate it!)

**NO ONE CAN CHOOSE THEIR SOULMATE...**

_Geralt fell to the ground at the same time as kikimora, whose head was separated from it’s body._

_For the first time in a long time, his senses were out of his control. The colors were so vivid, just peering through his eyelashes it hurt him incredibly, creating a terrible headache as if thousands of tiny needles were stuck in his head. The sounds were so loud, his eardrums quivering like a lion was roaring at the bottom of his ear rather than the sweet symphony of rustling from the leaves._

_Geralt pulled out a muffled groan against the incoming nausea and when he threw himself towards the edge of the lake, his whole back covered in the mud, staining his hair and armor. He struggled to regain control, trying to close his eyes tightly and block out sounds, images, anything that bothered him. The last time he experienced something like this was about seventy years ago, when he first set out on the path as a witcher. He was inexperienced at that time, knowing what effects the potions had on him but often his senses were out of control beacuse... Well, he was just young, his mentors or friends were not with him when he faced with monsters for real. He had to put his instincts and training he received when he was trained as a wticher in order to survive and in time, he learned to suppress it in a professional way._

_But now, as if this was the first time he had experienced it, his senses had lost control over him. Everything was so intense and bright and loud that he couldn't help but grimace his face with pain. He turned to his side and another groan passed his lip, tried to take deep breaths and calm himself, not caring about the mud in his mouth as he did._

_He's been like that since he met him again._

_Strange, restless, careless... **Half**._

_He's never felt this way in his life. By the time he met the boy, Geralt's life had passed as normal as it was for a witcher. He had a contract, he killed the monster, and took his coin and moved on to next contract for coin. He was subjected to occasional insults and stoning, but nothing he was used to. Yennefer was a detail that certainly colored his life, but even she couldn’t make such an impact on him like this._

_This—this was so different than anything else._

_It was like there was a huge void in his body, he didn't know how to fill it, what he could do to get rid of this awful feeling. The unknown was terrifying, he didn't want to admit that he was helpless, but he knew he was losing his mind day after day, and he had to find a solution quickly before one of the monsters finally killed him. A careless witcher meant a dead witcher, he couldn't die for some fucking shit reason._

_Geralt clenched his teeth and groaned again and began to try harder to calm his senses by closing his eyes tightly. It had been three weeks since he left Oxenfurt behind, and for three weeks he was literally feeling like shit._

_His mind was constantly on the omega he left behind. His young face, a few years away from being an adult, was more beautiful, vibrant and youthful than most women's. His sky blue eyes were as bright as an expensive jewel that constantly polished, from there it was impossible not to see his passion for life brimming. Looking directly hurt Geralt almost as much as a physical wound. He seemed so pure and innocent and full of life. Just the exact opposite of Geralt._

_Omega had a short height for a man, probably barely able to reach Geralt's chest. His bones were thin, Geralt could say it almost looked delicate like a small porcelain doll. The slightest pressure could breake his bones easily and it was a terrifying thought._

_An omega, who looks so breakable and small was bound to be a witcher’s mate by destiny._

_Perhaps it was too soon for him to comment on his appearance, as his body had not yet developed properly. But for some reason, Geralt didn’t think the child would develop any further than he is now. He was very different from omega in every way. His body was full of wounds, cuts and scars, all due to his job. His skin was hard, his muscles big enough for most people to think once more before they got try to close to him. Even if he had no intention of hurting the child, he could easily have hurt him without even knowing it._

_Destiny really had to have a funny sense of humor, or she liked to fuck with him. Of all the creatures on earth, why would he choose this child as his soulmate? Besides, the boy-Julian-was an omega. Because he was a witcher he felt his second gender, his animal side or in other words; instincts, more intensely than any other alpha. Emotions, desires, needs were more dominant, more passionate, and more pre-eminent than logic. Controlling his alpha side was even harder than controlling his senses. It has never been easy for him to ignore his most basic needs, but at least time had been merciful on him about it._

_Vesemir had allowed them to set out to path when he and his other brother Eskel believed they could be sufficiently controlled and sensible. Otherwise, there was no doubt they would terrorize every town they passed through. Witchers were known as emotionless monsters because they were able to control human needs and senses with extraordinary success. But now, as he writhed in pain, each cell was screaming for him to return to his soulmate, to take possession of him._

_That was another point that Geralt couldn't understand. How could he have a soulmate? He thought mutations were effective, and that was one of the first things they learned. Witchers couldn't have soulmates. Then what was this immense attraction to the boy?_

_In his long life, there were only three women in his life who he really thought had feelings for them. They were none other than Renfri, Triss and Yennefer. They all had passion in common. They had a burning relationship until they consumed the fire between them and turned themselves into pieces of flame. He was still seeing all of them, but none of them were the same, they were more like old friends to him. Although Geralt cared about each one - taking into account Triss being omega as well-he didn't think to go far enough to bond with any of them._

_But from the first day he smelled Julian’s scent, Geralt wasn't himself. At first he needed so much to get back to Lettenhove that he could neither eat nor rest properly for a while. When he was weak due to fatigue, it took him a long time to recover, and then, enraged by the point he had brought himself, he was able to visit Lettenhove again only five years later. During his absence, Eskel instead wandered Lettenhove and the surrounding lands, encountering with no problems at all._

_However, when he decided to go back again after five years passed, for his luck there was a griffin problem that surrounded the area. The viscount was in complete need of his help with he monster but Geralt was afraid to be dragged back to the point where he had just recovered-yes, he was afraid - . He was a fucking witcher, he was not going to let a five year old kid to make him take a step back. He therefore accepted the viscount's offer and eliminated the griffins._

_And then again –of course it hat to be again- he met the viscount's son. Julian was a small thing, maybe a few inches taller than Geralt's calf at that time or not. He was so sweet that Geralt almost smiled as he ran from place to place with joy flowing through his small body, then collided with him and fell on his small butt. He had to give it to him, the kid was really adorable. Big eyes, curly brown hair, an innocent smile which was as warm as the sun... He had to be a monster to turn his eyes away from him._

_What happened next was even more surprising. Julian had told him how beautiful his hair was when he was supposed to be doing what any child would normally do; running and crying to his mother, afraid of his big, scary appearance. And Geralt knew he was sincere about his words. The admiration that lay in his huge eyes was too clear to be kept secret, making it impossible for Geralt to look away from him. It was almost enchanting._

_Julian may have been involved in his life for a very short time, but his influence was so great that he had a place above all the experiences Geralt had ever had. Thinking about the boy was comforting. He sometimes found himself contemplating it while watching the fire burn on quiet camping nights. He wondered what he was doing, what he was eating now, whether he was in good health, whether he was laughing carelessly or not._

_For many long years, The attachment of a harmless, innocent soul who enjoyed life to him had caused Geralt to be disgusted with himself. What could he offer someone who grew up in luxury and prosperity, who never had to face a physical challenge? Monster? Blood and humiliation? The only thing Geralt could offer him was distance. He knew that the longer he stayed away from him, the more happy and joyful Julian would be in the future._

_Despite all the promises and vows he made, Geralt went to Lettenhove a few more times, hoping to see the boy, and when he couldn't see him, he stopped doing so. But a voice in him kept pressing him to go to Oxenfurt, until Geralt’s only remedy was to bow to the pressure inside._

_When he went to Oxenfurt, he was strangely happy to find Julian there. It was as if nine years later the gap had found a way to close. He didn't even realize how much stress he'd put himself under until he saw him, all his muscles relaxed, his thoughts quietened by the relief of the boy’s distinctive smell. He felt in control, strong, and for a moment more invincible than ever. All this lasted until he noticed the new detail about his smell._

_As soon as he got the first under-scent that revealed Julian was an omega, Geralt's relieved body was re-stretched by a fıerce desire for protection, causing him to revert to his young form in Kaer Morhen years ago. Geralt was never a possessive man, he cared for his lovers, but he never acted like one of those bastards who saw possessiveness as a feat. Most entities that were alpha would see it as a right. Because they were at the top of the chain, they naturally liked to rule, to control something or someone._

_When Geralt had just reached adulthood, he had learned to ignore these feelings. Every every living being could only belong to themselves. The soulmates were perhaps making an exception in this matter, but since Geralt’s race could never have a partner, he didn’t feel the need to dwell on the matter._

_But seeing Julian a few feet away from him, singing carelessly and dancing with his lute from place to place, gave him a big break in the chain of logic he created. All he wanted to do at that moment was to cut the crow in half, reach for him and mark him in front of everyone by biting into the smooth, pale skin. So no one would dare look at his soulmate even sideways. Everyone would know that he belonged to the White Wolf, that he was under his protection, and if they even tried to touch a single hair on his head, they would die under his wrath._

_Julian was so vulnerable, Geralt was hurting just looking at him. It was a miracle Julian managed to survive all these years._

_Geralt opened his eyes, realizing that his senses were beginning to descend to a normal level. Thinking about his soulmate had two opposite effects on him; calming him down just as he had stirred up his most primitive instincts. Geralt took a deep breath and straightened up from where he lay, forcing his eyes to focus without feeling the need to shake the mud stuck on top of him and looked at the body of kikimora, which stood a meter or two away from him. He was supposed to take its head and give it to the mayor for payment._

_Geralt managed to stand up completely by sighing, lifting his shoulders upright._

_He **had to** stop thinking about his mate._

_That's where his problem starts._

_He could never do that._

_***_

Geralt looked at the omega, who was sleeping between his arms. His brown hair was clinging to his sweat soaked forehead, his round cheeks which still bore his childishness were dark pink and his lips, which rang red, were slightly spaced out for better breathing. Geralt almost said he looked good. Almost... Julian- _Jaskier_ was covered in blood. His lower lip was battered to the point of being brutally chewed, his face was covered in multiple bruises that indicated he had been beaten, his entire thin neck was full of fingerprints, and there were bloody teeth marks at the end of his neck. And it didn't escape his attention that half his clothes were torn.

Geralt's jaw clenched furiously. He wanted to go back and tear the count apart so badly that if the omega was able to defend himself, he would have turned Roach back, headed straight for the manor, and introduced the count to his death. Even though he doesn't like to meddle in people's lives, that rule could be fucked up right now. Jaskier had been harassed, perhaps worse, and even thinking about it as a mere thought was freezing his blood, causing a fierce, animalish growl to rise from his throat.

The first time he saw Jaskier, he felt something was wrong but he chose to stay in the background, preferring to take refuge in his promise to not to interfere with his life. But it was so obvious that there was a huge wrong and because of that and his screaming instincts, Geralt couldn’t hold back himself from controlling the state of his soulmate, after handing over the monster's head to the count.

The first detail that caught his attention was Jaskier’s clothes. What son of a viscount would wear such rags? He could see how the shoddy clothes made Jaskier’s skin uncomfortable, his poor pale skin was red, some of it even irritated and swollen. The second detail that caught his attention was his speaking style. Jaskier had called the count ‘sir’ when he spoke of him, and those eyes which were vivid with life and happiness that captured Geralt’s attention and carved into his memory years ago, were in sheer _fear_.

Geralt didn’t like to see fear in those eyes, Jaskier's poor image immediately starting to ring alarm bells in his head and send warning signals to him to make an action.

The final conclusion to his theories was that when he found him sleeping in the stables. He has never seen a noble lie on a small bed of hays in a place with the smell of horses. But there he found Jaskier, in a stinking stable, sleeping quietly with his little body curled up on a bed made of dry, hard looking hays. What hurt Geralt more was that Jaskier actually used it as a room, rather than a place where omega used to spend time on his own. He had seen his personal belongings, which seemed too private and personal to make things ordinary.

What kind of shit was going on?

He didn't want to get involved, all he wanted to do was just one look at the omega and move on. It was supposed to be no different from what he had done before, but when Jaskier begged him not to go, Geralt had to put all his might into not listening to his pleadings. His voice was more dominant and masculine than his appearance, but there was a fragility, a cry that softened his timbre. It was like velvet covered in honey, Geralt wanted to hear more to cheer his ears with this beautiful voice.

But he couldn't.

It was the right thing to do, he wasn't supposed to interfere. Jaskier would eventually forget him, he had not been in his life long enough to have a place in his memory. He wasn't even sure if it could remain a memory for him, which would probably be too generous of a demand.

But -of course, but- nothing happened as he planned. On the night he decided to leave, he and Roach headed for the exit of the town, he caught the scent of omega in the cool night air, and the moment Geralt smelled the acidic, fearful essence of his scent, he immediately turned his direction to find him. The clarity of his fear had made Geralt dizzy, filled with such a strong need to reach the omega, to calm him down and protect him that his training or experiences which lasted almost a century, carry no significance for him at the moment.

All he thought about was reaching out to his mate. The closer he got to him, the more intense the smell get, the more it split his soul into a thousand little pieces. Whatever scared him so much, Geralt was ready to eliminate them. Human or not, what race he is or what he is was not important him, his omega needed him and that was all matter. He could have decided what to do with him after his scent became his favorite dessert again, but right now, _right now_ , all he wanted was _death_.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Seeing Jaskier crawling on the floor in his own vomit and crying breathlessly, had swept away all that was left of Geralt's logic. His soulmate was in distraught, Geralt's sight reddened when Jaskier helplessly held onto his boots for help. His soulmate shouldn't have crawled on the floor like a miserable beggar, he shouldn't have smelled like that, he shouldn't have known so clearly what fear felt like.

What happened next, Geralt was more or less in conscious. He didn't even remember when he pulled his sword out of his sheath, as his alpha side put pressure on his logic to get their _mate_ out of danger, keep him safe and be more aggressive towards anyone who dares to touch him. It was only after he killed the men standing in front of him and heard a little whimper from Jaskier that he regained consciousness.

He knew he couldn't leave the omega behind. As soon as what had happened reached the count's ear, he was sure they would come looking for him and Jaskier, at least until he reached a safe place he could not let his soulmate out of his sight. He didn't feel the sense enough to do it. Although omega lie between his arms, Geralt still felt alert and ferocious.

He couldn't stop thinking about the moment Jaskier called him as his mate. His voice had reached his ear with a soft surrender like he was voicing the obivious truth lying between them. How could Geralt could resist him when Jaskier was calling him like that? For years, Geralt had tried so hard to stay away from him, sometimes succumbing to the desire to see him, sometimes becoming stubborn with himself and walking further away from him. But now he had neither the power nor the will to do so.

Holding the omega in his arms was a whole different feeling than he had ever tasted. It was much different than grasping an ordinary body, as if he were holding his soul, even his heart, in his arms. There were two things he knew about Jaskier: that he was an omega and he was the son of the viscount of Lettenhove. But right now, he was no different from someone he had known for years while grasping him. Even though there was no bond between them, and he knew him with only so little information, was it normal for him to feel like this?

With thoughtful eyes, he turned his gaze to Jaskier for the millionth time. Although he was asleep, his brows were slightly furrowed, as crystal-clear tears streaming down his cheeks, indicating that he was having an uneasy dream, and his tiny, inner-shattering whimpers were coming out of his pink lips. Geralt raised one hand to wipe the tears but couldn't be sure of touching him, and for a while his hand remained in the air. What if he accidentally hurts him instead of touching him? What if the omega gets disgusted when he finds out the witcher touched him? What-

As Jaskier whimpered louder than before, unconscious and rubbing his nose against his chest, Geralt's thoughts became silent, wiping away the flowing tears by trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Shh, it's okay. It’s okay, you are safe. It’s alright.''

Then, unable to control himself, he buried his nose in the nutshell-colored hair. Despite the vomit, sweat and blood that covered Jaskier's breath and body, he was able to pick out the sweet smell of vanilla through thick layers. Geralt's body calmed down somewhat, the scent massaging his nerves as he chased the primal thoughts in his misty mind, while his soul pulled back its claws that were ready to attack.

Jaskier stopped frowning after muttering something incomprehensible and, along with a relaxed sigh, stung him a little more. Geralt's grip became involuntarily tight, as he drove through the forest in silence for a while, checking him several times (thirty-sixth time since they set off) to make sure the omega was tightly covered and remained warm.

It had been nearly three hours since he left Drakenborg territory. He tried to open the gap as much as he could and he never took a break and pushed the limits of Roach. He could see the mare was getting tired, her glossy coat starting to glow with sweat and making angry huffs at him.

"Hang in there, girl. Just a little bit more to go.''

Geralt stroked his mare's neck as far as he could, and then looked at the stallion which tied to his saddle, coming after them with silent steps. He should have given the stallion his due, although Roach was used to pushing her limits, the stallion wasn’t too bad. He easily kept up with Roach's rhythm without giving him much trouble.

About another half hour passed, when Geralt heard the sound of the river, he stopped Roach and convinced that his surroundings were safe enough, he carefully dismounted with omega. He placed Jaskier under a wide-bodied tree, after he held him in his lap too long it felt wrong and strange for him to do that. But instead of standing near him and questioning himself, Geralt walked to the river to fill his flask to drink and wipe off his soulmate.

After Geralt had fulfilled everything that needed to be done in ten minutes, he was re-installed alongside his soulmate. He lit the campfire, took care of the horses and putted down the bedrolls, removing a suit from his own clothes for the omega. Geralt wasn't sure if he could stay calm when Jaskier stayed in those damn clothes a little longer. He wanted to cast the count's scent off his soulmate at once, otherwise fearing to mark his mate by being a primitive caveman and inflicting more fear on the poor omega.

Leaving him only with his underwear, Geralt tore off the parts he found clean and took them with him to use as a cloth, and threw everything else that was left of his clothes into the fire. His weakness knotted Geralt's throat as he began to wipe the omega by soaking up the fabric in his hand. He was so weak that his skin stretched over his bones, creating hollows in some places that made him appear sick. His fingers hovered over the thin bones in his rib cage, and being able to count each bone easily caused Geralt to clench his jaw furiously.

His desire to go back and kill the damned count had now doubled or even tripled. He hated the fact that the man who did this to his mate was still breathing, but on the other hand, he couldn't leave the omega and go anywhere. Especially when he's so fragile and vulnerable... He needed Geralt's help.

Geralt stopped his growls, trying to keep his anger in check. He wiped Jaskier from head to toe, carefully cleaned the wound on his neck, then bandaged it and rubbed it with his soothing salve to the places where it started to bruise. In doing all this he also paid attention to his strength and movements, not wanting to accidentally cause Jaskier more pain.

Finding dense, dark-brown hair on his body, especially around the chest while taking care of him took Geralt’s attention. Omegas had always had a showy and smooth complexion, he remembered that none of them had as much hair as Jaskier. Jaskier’s was softer than a man's, felt almost like silk, and he must admit that he enjoyed the effect it left at his disposal. Yet it contained too much hair for a petite omega, which was a somewhat bizarre detail.

When Jaskier was clean enough to satisfy him, Geralt clothed Jaskier as he dressed him like a newborn baby. His clothes were too big and wide on the omega, but at least they were clean, and his sweet smell was not masked by someone else's. It smelled like Geralt. Like he was owned by _him_.

Geralt tried not to like it too much.

He grasped the omega from the back of his head, slowly straightening it, and applied a controlled pressure towards his lower jaw to get the flask closer to his lips so he could drink it.

"Come on, open your mouth." When he didn't get a reaction, he increased the pressure a little bit. "You'll feel beter I promise, you just need to open your mouth. Come on, come on." When Jaskier opened his mouth with a groan that was hard to hear, Geralt breathed a sigh of relief and caressed the back of his head, praising him. "Good boy, just like that. Drink it, it's all yours.''

While omega drank the water in small sips without difficulty, Geralt measured his temperature with his other hand. He was still too hot, and although Geralt had just wiped his body, the sweat was still reddening his skin and cheeks. He didn't know much about human illness, couldn't be sure if they had a cold or another disease. He only knew how quickly and easily people could die from a simple cold, so he would do his best to keep omega alive.

When Jaskier suddenly choked and began to cough, Geralt pulled the flask from his lips, remembering his time with Ciri, how he approached the little girl and with that, he lowered his voice an octave and had omega's body put in a sitting position. Then he started patting him on the back, tried to soothe him and failing miserably.

"Easy, easy. You don't have to drink it all at once, little sun.''

The endearment slips from his lip so easily that it startled him. He didn’t even think about to how to call him, it just... It just happened like he was breathing air. After Jaskier coughed one or two more times, his eyelids opened and he stared at him with a confused expression, revealing azure eyes glowing with pain.

"Wh-Where?''

"In a safe place. No need to worry.''

Jaskier frowned at his answer.

"Henrick? Guards?''

"You don't have to think about them omega. Just rest, your body needs it.''

"Safe ... really?" As Jaskier's eyes closed, his body loosened under the influence of his words. "Are we really safe?''

The question twisted Geralt's heart. Trying to ignore the searing ache in his chest, he laid Jaskier on top of the bedroll he had prepared. After making sure he was comfortable, he started to withdraw from him only to stopped by Jaskier as he grabbed him from the tip of his cloth.

'' _Don’t_. Don’t go. I beg you.''

"I'm not going." Geralt said, trying to use a gentle voice. "I'll just check the fire.''

''Don’t go. Stay, please. _Please_.''

When his words emerged from his barely cracked lips, Jaskier's blue eyes, which looked half open quickly closed again. He looked so small and fragile in his clothes, almost like a child, as the drops of sweat came down from his forehead. Unable to find the strength in him to oppose his will, Geralt sat by his side and hesitantly touched the delicate hand that still grasping the tip of his clothing stubbornly. His fingers hummed over the thin wrist in a voice that appeared as quiet as the night itself as he made soothing circles on his pulse.

"No one can hurt you, I promise. You're safe and sound, so go to sleep now. And when you wake up, I'll be here.''

Jaskier slightly shook his hand as he responded and within seconds, he had fallen deep asleep while Geralt's last primal impulses also retreated with the omega’s relaxed aura. Turning his eyes to the stars that adorn the night, he muttered to himself.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a rough ride.
> 
> What do you think of Geralt? Did you like the chapter or not? Please share your thoughts with me, I'll be very happy to read them^^


	7. Nothing Is As It Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the chapter:
> 
> "It—It hurts master, please don't.''
> 
> "Jaskier.''
> 
> "No whip, please no whip. Forgive me master, please forgive me.''
> 
> "Jaskier." Geralt tried to keep his tone calm. Stay in control. Stay in control. Stay in control. "There's no one here who can hurt you. You’re safe.''
> 
> "It still hurts." Jaskier sobbed and spun over and over again as if to avoid whiplash blows. When the tip of his cloth is slightly scraped upwards due to his impulsive movements, Geralt looked at some faint and some prominent marks covering his sweaty pale skin. The scars were almost enough to compete with his. Long, short, deep, faint, thick, thin... There were so many scars of length and variety on his weak bony back, evident enough to see clearly that Geralt's throat knotted violently.
> 
> "I swear to you master, I will never put my hand on any food again without your permission. Just— just stop please, I beg you. It really hurts... I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Sorry for the delay (again).
> 
> Any mistakes (grammar, miss-spellings etc.) you see is done by me. If you see any of them, please let me know!
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS:
> 
> -Mentions of child abuse(slightly)  
> -Violence  
> -Starving  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> P.S : To some, this may look like a filler chapter, but actually it's a pretty important chapter that makes Geralt realize some things.

**NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS**

_‘’You said that witchers couldn't have soulmates.’’_

_Despite entering the room with a snarl, Vesemir calmly lifted his head from his work and looked at him with wise eyes._

_‘’I said it was close to impossible, never said that you couldn’t have it, son.’’_

_"Mutations-‘’_

_‘’Its changed your body, not your soul. Because our race can live so long, it's almost a fairy tale for us to be able to meet our soul mates. But there's always a possibility, you know this.’’_

_‘’No.’’_

_Geralt took another step inside, breathing angrily through his flared nostrils. He couldn't keep it –this unbelievable secret—in any longer, it was like a bomb about to explode. He didn't know how to get through this winter, he had such a strong desire to return to his soulmate and it was about to tear him apart. It had been five months since he had left Oxenfurt behind, during the time Geralt had accepted every contract that stood in his way, hunting down monsters and tossing the money he had received into brothels without a second thought. He felt misarable, but he cound’t deny that it was a easy way to keep the omega out of his mind as he kept himself busier than normal._

_But now in Kaer Morhen, he had plenty of time to think among in keep’s cold stone walls, and little by little this was droving him to madness._

_His thoughts were putting immense pressure on him to set off to find his mate, without thinking of the harsh winter storms, freezing cold and snow clusters that exceeding a meter with each passing day. Geralt no longer knew how to get through the winter without succumbing to his thoughts. His soul was dying, and it was only a matter of time before he could hear its cries in his ears in a much more real, concrete way._

_Vesemir's sharp eyes, which always missed no details, caught the expression on his face and raised one grey eyebrow slowly as he questioned him._

_‘’You have a soulmate." he said in a voice that was flat, perfectly void of any emotion. Geralt answered him with a grunt and leaned against the dusted stone walls of the library._

_‘‘Since when?’’_

_"Fourteen years, I think?" Geralt sighed and closed his eyes. ‘’I can't get him out of my mind, it’s feel like a terrible curse stuck on me. My soul doesn't fit inside me, my bones ache more and more with the need I feel for him every day, and my head is about to crack. Is there no way to stop this? I'm losing my mind, Vesemir.’’_

_‘’When was the last time you saw him?’’_

_Against his gruff voice, Vesemir approached him with the same calm tone and stood before him carefully._

_"Five months ago, in Oxenfurt.’’_

_‘’And you've known this boy for fourteen years?’’_

_‘’I don't know him, I've only seen him a few times.’’_

_‘’But that's enough to get you out of control.’’_

_There was no accusation or humiliation in Vesemir's voice. On the contrary, the first glimpses of concern were beginning to settle in the eyes that were generally seemed cold and distant. Geralt clenched his fists and asked with a growl, trying to suppress the thoughts in his head._

_‘’What do I have to do to stop this?’’_

_Vesemir laughed unexpectedly against the question, throwing one hand on his shoulder and squeezing it in a fatherly manner, then looked straight into his eyes._

_‘’Listen carefully son. I've always taught you how to survive. I've raised a warrior, not a fool. Now tell me honsetly, you want to run away from something that's so rare that it falls right into your hands?’’_

_"The path is not suitable for any living thing except a witcher. You're the one who advised us from the beginning that we walk alone.’’_

_"True, but what you don't understand Geralt, is that this child carries half off your soul, just as you carry his. He's the only one on earth who can accompany you on the path, apart from your brothers. You can't escape from your destiny son, your Child Surprise is the greatest example. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can get out of your crisis.’’_  
_Geralt growled. With every new word coming out of his mentor's mouth, he felt like a wild animal. Trapped, angry and aggressive._

_‘’I don't want anyone to depend on me. I don't want to take their responsibility or worry about them. You raised me to kill monsters, not to babysit anyone.’’_

_"True, but I also taught you to have common sense when raising you and your brothers. Your soulmate-‘’_

_‘‘My soulmate is coming from a noble family." Geralt snarled angrily through his teeth like a snake, and passed his hand through his dull hair, which he had not washed for days. The words barely came out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. "Half the continent is fear us to death, and the other half is ready to spit on our faces. What do you expect me to do, rejoice because I have half the soul of a noble? Apart from comfort and luxury, he doesn't know a damn thing, he can't last a day on the path! I won't be responsible for his death, no.’’_

_‘’You don't even know him and yet, you’re still judging him. Don't make hasty decisions Geralt, or you'll end up hurting son.’’_

_Geralt let out a sarcastic grunt as he laughed. His chest was burning with rage, and the funny thing is, he didn't know exactly what and who he was angry at. Clearly the boy was no fault here, neither he nor Geralt was given the opportunity to choose their soulmate. He couldn't get mad at him for being a nobleman, after all no one was coming into the world choosing their family._

_**Destiny**. A creak rose from Geralt's teeth. He really hated destiny._

_‘‘It is a certain fact that no one welcomes our kind. No matter what we do, no matter how many monsters we kill, they will always be fearful and distant. I won't let him suffer the same fate as me. He's so early in his life, he doesn't have to go through all this shit just because he's my mate. As long as I stay away from him, he can live a comfortable and safe life. This is the only best thing I can give him.’’_

_A gentle smile appeared on Vesemir's face. Sighing, he placed both hands on his taught shoulders and gently rattled him to look at his face._

_‘‘That's a very thoughtful decision son, and I'm very proud of you. But there's one thing you're missing, it's not a decision you can make on your own. You have to understand that the person that destiny bounds to you is not just a person who will come and go through your life. He’s the only person who can complete you in every sense. By the gods Geralt, he has your soul! Pushing him is not only going to hurt you, it's going to hurt him too. I bet you're not the only one feeling the symptoms you just mentioned. He feels these things, and as you continue to open the distance, you both will continue to feel it. Don't do this.’’_

_"Vesemir-‘’_

_Vesemir shook his head and silenced him._

_‘‘You deserve happiness, my son. Don't escape from **him**.’’_

***

Geralt sat a little away from Jaskier with a deep sigh.

Two days had passed and omega had still not recovered from the realm of unconsciousness. Geralt didn't hesitate to travel during the day to get some distance, he knew Jaskier needed a rest, but he couldn't risk getting caught when he had come this far. He wasn't afraid to actually face them, it was easier to kill people than to kill monsters.

Uncomplicated, simple, quick... However, while Jaskier was too weak to defend himself and was unconscious, Geralt did not think he could protect him and effectively fend off the danger at the same time. If the count was really after them, Geralt was certain he would come with many more soldiers to seek revenge. He was rarely wrong about such matters.

Also, the ferocious need to protect Jaskier was making it difficult for him to gather his much needed control, it was primitivizing him. He didn't want to go into a town, mingle with the crowd, or leave Jaskier's side until he was firmly in control.

Jaskier whimpered silently and when he turned to his side, Geralt stripped away his thoughts and got up from his spot to grasp the cloth that stood next to the unconscious omega. He couldn't understand why his fever hadn't come down yet, he had done everything that could be done. Geralt wiped his clamy skin more times than he could count in the day to keep his body cool, even if Jaskier had trouble at eating, he was at least regularly taking fluids, and Geralt was always careful to leave a wet piece of cloth on his forehead to get his fever down. He had seen healers approach sick people in this way all the time, he didn't think there was a point he skipped. Maybe he should start making tea by picking up a few herbs, as Jaskier's fever didn't seem to be going down for a while.

Geralt, as usual first wiped the sweaty hot forehead of the omega, from there he reached his cheeks and neck, while he was wiping him with great care, Jaskier whimpered once more as if his touch had hurt him.

''Uncle... Uncle, stop." Jaskier's pained voice instantly caused Geralt to turn his gaze to his face. Jaskier's eyebrows raised up to create a sad, almost tearful expression. His mouth was tight shut, but even so, Geralt could hear the tiny shattering whimpers coming out of there. ''Uncle. Don’t— Stop. Stop, _please_.''

As tears began to flow from his eyes, Geralt was petrified on the spot. Even though he had more or less experienced how to handle such situations with Ciri, each time the omega cried Geralt was frozen.

"Don't touch, P-Please, uncle. It feels weird, I'm scared.''

"Jaskier." Geralt tried to use a gentle voice by trying to soften the thick timbre in his voice, but it didn’t help. Jaskier did not hear him, the tears continued to soar over the omega’s crimson cheeks as his alpha side howled in desperation. "Jaskier." Geralt said once again, trying his luck. There was a much simpler option to wake Jaskier by grabbing him by the shoulders, but he couldn't do it since he was afraid of hurting the small man and making him more afraid. "Wake up. Come on Jaskier, wake up, you're having a nightmare.''

But Jaskier didn't wake up. His limbs began to move, as if he had engaged in an imaginary struggle with his uncle, and his desperate voice began to make Geralt's ears bleed and his heart ached painfully.

'' _Mother_." His voice sounded like a little boy who was small, scared and defenseless and it’s squeezed the witcher's heart so hard that Geralt's breath was trapped in his lungs."Mother, help me. Tell him not to touch me." Jaskier sobbed and turned his face towards the grass. Though his long tuffs kept his eyes hidden from him, Geralt could still easily see the endlessly flowing tears. ''Mother... Mom. _Please_. I am afraid.''

"Jaskier.''

He didn’t even know that he could use such a tender voice and touched the omega. His touch created a visible comfort in Jaskier as his hand went through the sweat soaked hair, causing Jaskier to turn his head towards him and tuck into his hand like a cat. With the same kindness Geralt showed to Ciri, he used his other hand to wipe the tears wetting Jaskier's soft cheeks.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay, you're just having a nightmare, little sun. You're safe here, remember?''

Oh, how Geralt would have wanted the truth to be like this. Although the omega was delirious because of the high fever, the things he had said were not fictitious.

It had been three days since Jaskier had first begun to spill the truth of his past, and Geralt had begun to clench his jaw so hard that he was sure he was starting to create holes on his teeth.

That son of a whore Jaskier’s so called 'uncle' had touched him. Geralt wasn't sure exactly how far the bastard had gone, but it was obvious that he had sexually abused the omega. During the past days, Jaskier’s fever didn’t calm down, on the contrary it caused him to talk more about his shitty past.

He was constantly begging his uncle not to touch him, crying and trying to fight his uncle as far as his disempowered limbs allowed. The most heart shattering image Geralt had ever seen was the expression of absolute horror after Ciri awoke from her nightmares with screams. Big green eyes wide open, tears flowing rapidly as she attempted to cover her mouth to surpress her sobs was the sharpest memory that destroyed Geralt's hardened heart.

And now, looking at Jaskier, he feels the same things again. He couldn't do anything to chase his fears, trying to comfort him a little by whispering words that were considered hardly consoling. His inability to help him was fueling Geralt's desperation and his willingness to act brutally.

He hated the word _please_ with all his heart. Three of Jaskier's four sentences were please. He was begging constantly and constantly. His sweet smell was once again masked by the fear brought by his past, the only thing that filled Geralt's nostrils was the acidic bitter smell. And he hated it. Hated that his mate’s scent covered with fear, hated his cries, hated his beggings.

He wanted so badly to go back to Lettenhove and kill his uncle and then his mother, like a bloodthirsty vampire, knowing that he would never find peace in this world again without seeing their bloody noble bodies lying lifelessly on the ground. Ignoring her son while he is being abused? A primal growl rose from Geralt. To hell with the butcher nickname, Lettenhove was definitely going to be a place he would visit soon.

When he thought he was having the worst five days of his life, by the time day six came he was quite wrong.

He was going to kill the count first.

Jaskier's scent was completely covered in horror. The smell was so intense and bitter that Geralt could almost taste it on his palate. It was disgusting enough to make him want to vomit, and the fact that Jaskier was able to hold so much fear in his tiny body, that he had experienced the horror to the bone had torn Geralt to pieces. His thoughts were all over the place. _Kill, protect, own, avenge, calm, love_. Every emotion and thought was intertwined.

"It—It hurts master, please don't.''

"Jaskier.''

"No whip, please no whip. Forgive me master, please forgive me.''

"Jaskier." Geralt tried to keep his tone calm. _Stay in control. Stay in control. Stay in control._ "There's no one here who can hurt you. You’re safe.''

"It still hurts." Jaskier sobbed and spun over and over again as if to avoid whiplash blows. When the tip of his cloth is slightly scraped upwards due to his impulsive movements, Geralt looked at some faint and some prominent marks covering his sweaty pale skin. The scars were almost enough to compete with his. Long, short, deep, faint, thick, thin... There were so many scars of length and variety on his weak bony back, evident enough to see clearly that Geralt's throat knotted violently.

"I swear to you master, I will never put my hand on any food again without your permission. Just— just stop please, I beg you. It really hurts... I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry.''

Geralt took Jaskier into his arms with a suppressed growl which sounded like a wounded wolf. It was torture to sit and listen to his delirium for hours and not being able to do anything to help. Geralt could no longer stand and watch as his whole self cried out for him to do something. He placed Jaskier between his legs, which he had tied up to meditate an hour ago and pressed the abnormally warm, light body against himself.

Jaskier's head leaned over his shoulder, tears instantly starting to wet the front of his shirt as his forehead touched his neck. Geralt stroked his hair, trying to stop omega’s sobs as he whispered the words.

"You will never be hungry again, I swear to you. Never again you will have to know hunger, you won't have to worry about being starved, all you know is fullness. You'll be safe, no one will dare to hurt you. You have my word.''

Geralt placed his other hand on the omega’s belly, then he opened his big hand up a little bit and caressed the sinked space. He continued to talk gently, not knowing exactly what he was saying. While he made a lot of death promises and vows, it was comforting to see that Jaskier’s body began to calm down, even though witcher could not be sure if the omega had heard him. Finally, Geralt placed his lips on top of the soaked hair.

"I'm sorry I got you late. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry little one.''

Vesemir was right, he was too prejudiced about his soulmate. He thought that Jaskier was living a luxurious and comfortable life behind the gates of the manor, all he cared about was small, insignificant worries about what to wear tomorrow, what to eat, or who would spend the night with in his chamber. But Jaskier had to face a lot worse than the monsters he killed. Didn't anyone help him all these years?

His shitty parents, as he understood from Jaskier's deliriums, did not protect him from his uncle’s abuse. What about his father? The viscount of Lettenhove couldn't have been turned to a blind eye by all this going on right under his nose. But the families of the nobility were the worst among the human race. They were more likely to get involved in all kinds of shit. Incest, twisted relationships, intrigue... They had a strong desire to have power, and it was also their greatest weakness.

The omegas could not own land because of the fucked up laws of man. Geralt didn't know exactly what was going on in Lettenhove, but he had no doubt that what happened to Jaskier happened because of his second gender at one point. If the viscount had anything to do with it, Geralt wouldn't hesitate to add him to his death list.

Geralt kept his whispering soothing words to Jaskier until his mouth dried up. He couldn't get his lips off the top of his head, he wanted to touch him, keep his hand on him until he was sure he was okay. Although Jaskier was still in considerable pain, his soul felt full with his mate at his side. He felt like he was going to explode at the slightest touch.

After a while, Jaskier's eyes opened slightly as the sky slowly began to darken. His blue eyes were turned to him, but he was out of focus, only deep sadness lay in those enormous orbs.

‘’Please forgive me. Forgive me, master. I'm sorry.’’

Geralt took a sharp breath, lifting his hand above the omega’s tiny belly and wiping the sweat from Jaskier's temple. Touching him in this way, although it took incredible therapy on his soul, seemed wrong to Geralt. Jaskier was unconscious, Geralt felt like a disgusting jerk as he invaded Jaskier’s personal space in this way and touched him without his consent. But on the other hand, he was also aware that his presence was good for him. As soon as he started to touch him, Jaskier's mumblings began to diminish, and the acidic essence of his scent lessened.

‘’There's nothing to forgive, little sun.’’

Geralt was still a bit perplexed by the way words were spilling so easily. The sweet words he wasn't used to were coming out of his lips too quick, too easily. It was as if they were waiting on the tip of his tongue. Pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind for now, he pulled out his flask from inside his bag, which he kept with the cloth.

‘’Come on, open your mouth.’’

Jaskier's face was marred with fear. He hid his face on his shoulder and muttered in a broken voice, avoiding the flask he had brought towards him as if it were a whip.

‘’It's gonna hurt.’’

‘’No." Geralt patted him on the shoulder to appease him. Jaskier instantly shivered, reacting to his touch and whimpered, sticking his tiny body more into him as if trying to hide inside. ‘’I won't hurt you, I'm not your master. I just want to help you, let me?’’

‘’It's gonna hurt." Jaskier said in a desperate, crumbling voice. Geralt's heart became small beneath his voice.

‘‘No, I'll just give you water. That's it. Just water.’’

"It’s gonna-‘’

‘’No. Come on, Jaskier, you need this. Your body's lost too much fluid.’’

Jaskier sobbed. As seconds turned into minutes, Geralt patiently waited for his fear to wane. After a long period of torment, when Jaskier finally loosened in his arms, Geralt realized that he had once again closed his eyes. He took advantage of the situation and with some luck, he easily made him drink the water. This time, he didn't even need a massage to stimulate the muscles in his throat.

Two more days passed.

Every day was worse than the last.

Especially today.

As he meditated to get some rest, Jaskier's sudden cries leapt him out of the spot. There have been no whimpers or pleas that have forewarned him this time. Jaskier suddenly curled so hard in place with a jarring, agonizing cry that it seemed as if his flesh was tearing from his bone and Geralt feared he would break his back. As he hurried to the omega, Jaskier began to scream while writhing on place.

‘’I'm sorry master, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _Please_ , it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.’’

A short distance away, Geralt caught the smell spreading into the air and stumbled. Jaskier peed in his pants. Having to live with such an intense, horrible fear numbed the witcher’s brain and caused his heart, which normally beats with a fairly slow rhythm, to begin to strike rapidly, along with sadness and anger. His heart violently beat his rib cage, while his hands trembling in need to punch or hurt something. From his mind to his soul, his entire self was completely in chaos. He wanted to use his powers to calm his bloodthirsty, wild, primitive side, to his own personal advantage. He wanted revenge. He wanted it more than he could breathe.

Geralt snarled like a threatened predator and dressed Jaskier in his last remaining spare clothes and left his contaminated clothes to a far corner of the camp to wash later. He didn’t know how many hours he had spent trying to calm Jaskier down, but finally, the sobbings and screamings that had ravaged his heart calmed down. Jaskier turned his face towards his chest and tried to take refuge in him like a little boy. The ferocious growls from the witcher's throat also ended when his soulmate began to calm down.

To find a more comfortable position, Geralt stood up with his soulmate on his lap and leaned his back against one of the trees, and rubbed his head against Jaskier's head. While his long silver hair covered the young man’s chocolate-colored hair like a curtain, he again caught the faint, innocent scent of vanilla in the air. Geralt took a deep breath, inhaled the scent into his lungs and Jaskier too took a calm breath as Geralt stroked his soft, beardless cheek.

" _Mate_.''

"I'm here." He kissed the top of his head, unable to avoid his new habit, which has developed since he took care of him for more than a week. "I'm here, you're safe.''

Jaskier returned to the realm of unconsciousness again after making a silent purr. Geralt stroked his hair, combed the long tufts that fell before his eyes with his fingers, and touched his eyelids and eyelashes, as if he was touching a rare flower’s petal. Then with his calloused fingers, he also touched his flat nose, trying to memorize his every unique features when he realized that the shadow of a large thing fell on him. Upon seeing the stallion standing over him, Geralt was surprised and frowned at the same time, he was too engrossed with Jaskier that he didn’t hear or notice the animal’s arrival.

"What?" he said in a whisper. He knew Jaskier wouldn't wake up even if he spoke out loud, yet he didn't want to speak loudly. The stallion gave him a grunt as an answer and bowed his head to poke Jaskier's shoulder with his nose. Geralt's gaze softened.

"He'll be fine." He said, as if to calm himself rather than the horse. His fingers again tended to curled hair under the effect of the sweat. "He’s fine. Everything will be fine."

But it didn't happen like he hoped.

By morning, Jaskier was no longer mumbles, writhes or cries. He was as motionless as a stone, as if even breathing was an incredibly difficult act for him. Although he had a fever, his face was pale and his lips were eerily discoloured.

Geralt panicked. Was he dying? _But why?_ There was no serious cause of death. Instead of thinking more and panicking, Geralt jumped out of his place with the first thought that came to his mind. He went straight back to where he left his bags and began to rummage through them.

Triss would know what to do. Although he did not doubt Yennefer's powers, Triss was more skilled and had more knowledge than her in healing. Yennefer's powers were pure chaos, they were far more suited to creating destruction. As soon as he found xenovox, Geralt spoke in single breath without giving Triss a chance to respond.

"Triss, I need your help. You need to come here. _Now_.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt being a feral but also a soft boi is my jam! He is thick-headed but you see, he's slowly coming around. Oh and also, any idea what happened to Jaskier? Please let me know your thoughts about the chapter! <3


	8. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Chapter: 
> 
> "Thank you, master witch-"
> 
> "Geralt." The witcher said. Jaskier looked at him dumbfounded when the man took the flask from him. The alpha repeated with a sigh. "My name. It’s Geralt. You can call me by my name.''
> 
> "Oh-but, are you sure? Wouldn't this be rude?''
> 
> ''No.''
> 
> "Well, Master wit-no, no. Sorry, habit. Master Geralt-"
> 
> "Don't use the master.''
> 
> "Sir Geralt?''
> 
> "Just Geralt.''
> 
> ''But-''
> 
> "Get to the point, Jaskier.''
> 
> It felt strange to hear his name from the witcher-Geralt's mouth, but it was a good kind of weirdness. It’s like his entire body had been caressed with an imaginary hand. Trying to suppress his chill, he straightened his shoulders and tried to place a small, warm smile on his face.
> 
> "Thank you for saving me... Geralt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This was a hard chapter to write and it took me a long-ass time to finish, phew! I'm really in need of a beta so if anyone is interested to help me with this story please leave a comment at the end. (All the grammar, miss-spellings and any other mistakes are done by me. So if you saw any of them, please let me know!)
> 
> Content Warnings:
> 
> -Panic Attacks
> 
> This chapter is beyond 6k so I hope you like it!

**FIRST IMPRESSIONS**

_"Tell me my little dandelion," Hearing his father’s voice, Julian lifted his head from the paper he was painting on and looked at his father with curious eyes."What do you want for your birthday?''_

_"For my birthday? Is it close?''_

_His father responded his excitement with a smile, and touched his nose with the tip of his finger after gently stroking his cheek._

_"Did you forget your birthday?''_

_"I know it's the season when daisies come out,"_

_''Spring." his father said, correcting him softly._

_"I know I was born in Spring, but I don't remember the day. Is this bad? Am I stupid?" Rather than smiling, his father laughed at his question this time. He knelt down in front of him to make eye contact, and stroked the top of his head, looking at his questioning face with loving eyes. Under his father’s touch and reaction, Julian stopped fighting with his shame and surrendered to his father's caress that made him feel peaceful._

_"No. Absolutely not. You was born on twenty fourth of April. It's a very special day for me as much as you. Do you know why?'’_

_"Because I was born?''_

_His father once again laughed._

_"Yes, because you were born. The first time I held you in my arms, you were so small and fragile. I didn't know how to hold you without hurting you. Look, your hands were this small." His father drew an imaginary circle on the center of his palm. "You were always crying and sweet Melitele, you were always hungry. Even though we fed you many times during the day.''_

_"No, I wasn't!" he said between giggles. His father ruffled his hair._

_"Yes, you were. It was such a hard task to do and compared to your entire body, you had a huge belly. It was looking like a ball.’’ When his father's hand came down to tickle his belly, Julian began to laugh louder, trying to get rid of his father's hand. "You were the loudest baby I've ever met in my life, but every time I held you in my arms," a warm, loving smile settled on his father's face. "you would be quiet. You'd blink your big blue eyes and laugh at me. You're the most precious thing in my life son, you know that right? Nothing in this world is more important to me than you.''_

_"Even a chest full of treasure?''_

_"Even a chest full of treasure.''_

_"Wow, do you really love me that much?''_

_His father's hazel eyes shone with tears. As he hugged him tightly, reaching out from where he was crouching and because of his sudden movement, Julian's breath was cut off absurdly. His father wrapped him in his long arms and kissed the top of his head._

_"I love you more than anything. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Julian.''_

_"Dad," Julian tried to turn his head so he could breathe. When he failed, he hit his father in the chest with one hand. "I can't breathe.''_

_When his father instantly pulled back, they both started laughing at the same time. Immediately afterwards, he kissed his father’s stubbled cheek in return for his hug._

_"I love you too dad, and you have to shave your beard. It hurts!''_

_His father touched his cheeks with one hand, then nodded in agreement._

_"You’re right, it’s been weeks since I last shaved. Now you want to tell me what you want for your birthday? Anything on your mind?’’_

_"Actually there is ... but," Julian glanced at his father with hesitant eyes, biting at his lower lip. He had something he wanted for a while, but he was afraid to say it aloud. Because he knew his mother wouldn't like it and would be mad at him if he did. But on the other hand, he really, really wanted it._

_"Tell me son, is it a toy? A kitten, or maybe a puppy hmm?’’_

_"An instrument... A-A musical instrument actually.’’_

_His father was surprised by his response._

_"A musical instrument?’’_

_‘’Yeah."Julian whispered. He watched the entrance with fearful eyes, as if his mother could hear what he said and enter the room at any moment. Since his mother telled him strictly that music was nothing but a distraction, from banquets to any entertainment Julian had to watch people dancing with nothing but pure joy, he silently enjoys the song from where he always sat._

_‘‘Is there an instrument you especially want to learn?" Julian nodded quietly. His father, realizing his timid attude patted him on the back as if trying to calm him down. "You can share anything with me, Julian. Tell me what you want.’’_

_Julian gulped and glanced at his father shyly. He then clenched his hands together and began to play with his fingers._

_‘’Well, do you remember the family that came to visit us last week?’’ he said in a whisper._

_‘’Yeah.’’_

_‘’And their youngest son?’’_

_"You mean Valdo.’’_

_Julian nodded. He never liked that boy. He was cocky, naughty and rude, constantly damaging his toys. And worse, he was doing everything he couldn't. He had a very crowded group of friends, and during their stay, he constantly told him about his friends and the games they played together. He also knew how to play a lot of musical instruments. Flute, violin, piano... As Julian listened to what he told him, he often ran out of the room so Valdo wouldn't see him cry, and naturally, Valdo made fun of him for finding his reaction over-dramatic. But he didn't know the environment in which he grew up. To be as free as Valdo, to do what he wants, to be friends with his peers... Although he didn't want to admit that he envied him, the truth was clear as day. As he witnessed Valdo’s life and the way he lived so freely, his stomach was twisting with unhappiness._

_Even though Valdo was perhaps the most spoiled child on earth, it was obvious that his family loved him. Everyone was genuinely taking care of him, while Valdo was talking, no one was interrupting him or scolding him harsly that he should shut up and sit through the whole conversation._

_Julian wondered what it felt like to be loved by everyone in his family. Having to hide every time his uncle comes, feeling like he was about to die of fear when he found him, his mother’s unresponsiveness to him in any situation and his father fighting alone to close the huge gap in his heart hurts Julian. No one thought he knew anything, but he knew everything. By the time he was ten, he knew the meaning of the word ‘no’ much better now._

_And how the word ‘please' doesn't mean anything..._

_"Do you want the instrument that he plays?" his father said, trying to keep the conversation going. Julian tried to push away the tears that had came to his eyes and, hoping his father wouldn't see it, he bowed his head and muttered a little ‘yes’. "Julian hey, look at me son.’’ When his father raised his chin to look better at him, the first drop of tears flowed down his cheeks. ‘‘Why are you crying?’’_

_"My-My Mother...’’_

_His father's gaze darkened._

_"I'll take care of her, it's not about your mother but you right now. There's no reason for you to cry, my little dandelion, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? Wipe away those tears, that's it.’’_

_When he felt a little better after his father helped him to wiped away his tears, he asked hopefully._

_"Are you really going to buy me a lute?’’_

_‘‘I will and it’ll be the best. You'll be the most famous person on this continent who can play the lute perfectly.’’_

_‘’That's a promise!" When Julian held out his pinkie to him, his father smiled and wrapped his little finger in same way._

_‘’Wait and see. In fact, I think your nickname is already ready; dandelion!’’_

_"Dad! That's a very feminine name.’’_

_‘’At first maybe, but have you ever thought about why I call you dandelion?’’_

_"Because it's a flower you love, and you love me?’’_

_His father laughed._

_‘‘It is, and much more. Dandelions are small flowers while their petals are as bright and yellow as the sun. They usually begin to appear with the first sign of the Spring. They are quite stubborn flowers, always managing to find a place to show their heads in any circumstances. Whether it's a mountain made up with nothing but rocks or a dry land area.’’_

_‘’Even in the deserts?’’_

_His father smiled, pushing his hair out of his sight and stroking his damp cheek._

_"Except deserts. For most people they are just flowers, a plant that can be small and nothing more than a simple view. But do you know what I see? Although they are very small, they have much more resistance than most flowers. Dandelions can survive for a very long time, as long as you don't tear their roots out of the soil. My favorite features of them are how colorful they are. In a meadow of nothing but green, you can spot them even meters away.’’_

_Julian kept quiet for a while, trying to make sense of what his father said. Then he bend his head slightly to the side like a puppy and looked at his father._

_‘’So I'm stronger than the others compared to my appearance?’’_

_‘’Absolutely.’’_

***

When Jaskier slowly managed to open his eyes as if there were masses of weight lying on his eyelids, he couldn’t prevent the small moaning that rose from his throat. The sun at the top of him was so bright and vivid that it could not stop his eyes from watering, and after blinking them several times, his vision finally began to gain clarity. Jaskier tried to straighten up with another groan. Everywhere in his body was aching, there was a throbbing pain in his gums as if someone had hit him on the head with a hammer, his arms and legs were so weak that he could feel the pain hitting his nerves even when he simply tries to move his fingers.

Jaskier took a deep breath, trying to remember where he was and what happened to him, rather than the pain that surrounded his body. First he looked at the tall oak tree that stood behind him, then frowned, it took him a few long seconds to realize that he was in the forest when he turned his head to see the other remaining trees.

"Ho-How?" With his growing confusion, what Henrick did to him began to appear in his memory. Jaskier took a sharp breath and touched his neck, fingers trembled slightly as he tried to find the small area where he was bitten. When his fingers found the bandages which wrapped neatly around his throat rather than a scarred skin like he expected, he frowned so hard that he felt a sharp pain in his head.

He recalled taking Greg and running away after he broke a bottle of wine on Henrick’s head. He also remembered how much pain his body was in after riding through the streets with Greg for a while, how he fell from the horse, how he vomited, and he even remembered when Henrick's men found him. Then-

And then, there were one or two images in his memory about the witcher coming to him, but he wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much of it was delusion. At that time, he was madly afraid that he would be taken back to Henrick. He still remembered begging the man to save him, and the more he tried to remember, the more images appeared in his memory, and a small sense of panic began to engulf him.

His arms was wrapped around witcher's feet, vomiting but also pitifully begging the alpha to save him. After that, he was sure that he lost consciousness because he remembered nothing but darkness. But sometimes, as he floated through the realm of unconsciousness, he remembered someone talking to him, and the stranger's voice was exactly the same as witcher's. They had the same deep, gruff tone.

Jaskier swallowed stubbornly against his dried throat to calm his aching gums and looked at the mare standing away from him and saw the double sword standing just beyond the mare.

‘’Wha-Oh my gods. It-It couldn’t be.’’

The witcher saved him. It was so impossible for Jaskier to believe that he waited for the swords to disappear until his eyes shone with tears, he was stubborn enough to not blink them. But it didn't. They didn’t dissappear like he believed. These... These were real. The witcher really saved him. The truth shook Jaskier deeply, feeling really happy for the first time in years, and he stopped breathing as if his lungs didn't know how to respond his emotions. He didn't know how far he and Henrick were. He didn't know where he was. But none of this mattered at the moment, he was finally out of hell.

Jaskier sobbed, unable to stop his tears of happiness. He didn't know how he was able to smile when he was crying, but somehow he was able to do it, it was impossible for him to erase his grin. He was free.

_He was free._

Jaskier couldn't stop himself as his sobs began to come out harder and louder, and he began to cry until he ran out of breath. After all these years, it was so beautiful and incredible to taste this feeling that it hurt. In an instant, it wiped away all the aches from his body, and replaced it with a more jarring, burning pain that set his entire soul on fire. Oh, but the pain was perhaps the sweetest Jaskier had ever tasted in his entire life. For the first time, he could feel that he was really breathing. Not because he was under obligation or because of someone else's orders, he was really breathing to taste this moment, this feeling. Being aware of that squezeed his throat like someone was choking him.  
As tears flowed through his cheeks at a brand new speed, his throat became so stuck that it became completely impossible for him to breathe. But it didn't matter, he could die like this gladly. It was heaven to taste freedom for a few minutes.

He wouldn’t have been hurt any more, he wouldn’t have had to stand strong to protect his loved ones, he wouldn’t have had to be brave, even though he trembled with fear. Didn't need to do anything. And it felt so good that Jaskier couldn't stop crying.

_He was free._

"Jaskier.’’

Jaskier heard the deep sound despite his sobs clogging his ears. As he lifted his head from his knees, he saw the witcher from his tear-blurred image. The witcher had nothing on him except his pants, and a few of his buttons were exposed, indicating that he was wearing them in a hurry. Jaskier tried to stop the tears, rubbing his eyes like a child and taking deep breaths. But it wasn't happening. His emotions surrounded him like they had erupted after all of them were kept in a locked box. He couldn't stop himself.

"Omega, **_look at me._** ’’

It was a clear order, and Jaskier had no power to disobey his order. When he turned his eyes to him again, he realized that the witcher was getting a little closer to him. Now he could see his hair was wet, the droplets of water dripping from his ends and glistening over his huge muscles. Instead of calming down as Jaskier looked at him, he started to panic more. The man must have just washed up, because he couldn't smell his scent which started to comfort him every time.

Jaskier was grateful that witcher saved him, and he could also see that he had taken care of him during the time he was unconscious. The bandages wrapped around his throat, the clean clothes on him, and the pieces of cloth standing next to him were the greatest evidence of this. How was he going to repay him for his kindness? He didn't have a single coin of his own. He didn't have any job that could make him earn money immediately. If the witcher thinking about a different way of paying method... Then— Jaskier swallowed so hard that his saliva hurt his throat as if it were a huge piece of glass.

Gods, he couldn't do that. He couldn't stand being touched, he couldn’t turn a blind eye once again. He couldn’t let this happen. Didn't he get hurt enough? Why did he have to go through this every time? He couldn't do this. Jaskier didn't know how to deal with it if his body was touched again, even though he had no consent, especially when he had just tasted freedom and it’s sweet effect had not yet been erased... He couldn't do that. His pride was too shattered for that. He couldn’t do. _He couldn’t do._

"Jaskier. You need to calm down, you're holding your breath.’’

Jaskier quickly retreated when the witcher took a step towards him, and when his body collided with the tree behind him, a sharp groan poured out of his lips as if his remaining breath had come out of his lungs. Witcher's dark grey eyebrows furrowed against his reaction and he stood where he was, refusing to approach him.

‘‘I'm not going near you, okay?" As if trying not to scare a wild animal, he opened his hands to both sides, showing that he had no intention of hurting him. When he understood his movement, Jaskier gave out a small, helpless whimper. He could perceive what he saw, but rather than his brain being on his side, he kept his paralysed body stable. "Shh, you're safe, omega. Nothing's hurting you. Look around you, can you see how many trees there are here?’’

Instead of doing what he said, Jaskier continued to hold his terrified gaze on the man, and while he did not look around, he nodded at the question fearing that the stranger would hurt him. The witcher continued to speak in a calm voice, without any reaction to his blatant lie.

"How many trees are closest to you? Can you count them?’’

‘’Ten." Jaskier said without missing a beat. As he lied once again, the witcher’s eyebrows furrowed more and his expression darkened. Jaskier was startled by his reaction and tried  
to put more distance between them, but all he could do was lean his back more against the tree and cause his skin to scratch as a result.

"Tell me the type of tree behind you, but this time before you lie, I want you to listen to what I really say and look up so you can see the branches.’’

Although his tone was calm and soft despite his thick timbre, the authority that lay in his words was clear. Strangely, the alpha's control calmed his panic a little and allowed him to respond to his order. Jaskier laid his head back and looked at the long branches and the green leaves of the tree, all of them gently trembles with the wind.

''Oak." he whispered.

"Good, that’s right.''

His small praise filled Jaskier's chest with happiness. As he lowered his head to see the witcher, Greg approached him from his left side in all his glory, poked his shoulder with his soft nose, and Jaskier stood up with a rustle from where he was sitting, not preventing to sustain his sobs and hugged the horse. Greg met his reckless move quite calmly, as if he had already expected him to do so, and bent his neck towards him so Jaskier could get better access. He then lifted his front leg, putting a slight strain on Jaskier’s right side to mad him lean comfortably on his body.

If his thoughts were healthier right now, Jaskier could have responded to Greg's move with laughter. Since he had been brought to Henrick's manor, he had taken care of the horses, so there was a closer bond between them compared to people. Especially with Greg. Along with hugging him, the horse eventually found a way to respond to him in its own way, and even this tiny movement was much warmer and more intimate than most people's, managing to fill his eyes every time.

"I've never seen a horse do this before.''

Hearing the witcher's voice again, Jaskier unwittingly clung to the horse a little more. He knew he was hurting the animal, but he couldn't calm himself down. He couldn't breathe, and he was feeling dizzy because he couldn't breathe enough, it was very difficult to stand on his trembling legs.

"Jaskier, I want you to focus on what I say. Stop thinking like a human, okay? Think like him. Think like a horse. Feel like him." Jaskier let out a hoarse groan. What was he trying to say? He didn’t undertand anything and he horrifyingly felt his face start to turn purple as his windpipe clogged. Sweet Melitele, he was dying. "Jaskier." Jaskier trembled from head to toe when the witcher called out to him again in a pure alpha tone. _ **"Stop thinking. Just focus on your surroundings, listen to your horse's heartbeat, feel his warmth. Listen to the rustling from the leaves, smell the air around you, and calm down. There's no one here to hurt you, you're in your own space. You are safe.''**_

"I can't. I-I can’t do it.''

**_"You can. Let your body and your mind go free. Let go your thoughts, free yourself.’’_ **

"I-I can't breathe.''

"You’re breathing." The witcher said camly. "You're even talking to me right now, you know that right? That's a pretty good development.''

"I...I—Witcher-"

_**"Don't put your energy into talking little one, just focus on my voice. Listen to your environment and feel safe. You’re safe.'’** _

What he wanted from him was simple. But Jaskier couldn't get his breath in order, his heart still beating strongly in him, his head spinning disastrously.

_**"Can you feel how strong and calm your horse is breathing? Touch the muscles under your hand and see how soft his coat is. He's a healthy and pretty strong stallion, don't you think?''** _

Jaskier closed his eyes as he listening to his words, and he first tried to listen to Greg's audible exchanges of breath. As the witcher said, the coat under his hand were soft and smooth. And it was warm, it’s warmed his skin greatly. When the blockage in his throat slowly opened, he began to notice the other details around him. The first thing he noticed was the joyous chirping of birds singing around, then the sound of rustling leaves and the smell of grass, along with the occasional strong wind hit his nose and skin.

"While I was staying in Henrick's manor," When he realized how dry his voice sounded, he paused and tried his luck again to be able to speak more clearly after swallowing it several times. "While I was staying there, I took care of him.''

"You took good care of him." His praise relieved Jaskier a little more. "Anyone can ride a horse, but not everyone can have the loyalty of a horse. I can see how fond he is of you.''

"Th-Thank you." Jaskier said shyly. When he felt good enough to separate his head from Greg's neck, he stroked the stallion's neck to thank him, then took a step back from him and turned his head to see the alpha. As soon as his gaze turned to the witcher, the yellow eyes pinned him where he was. Even though he was half-naked, he looked like a predator waiting to attack, his muscles were tense, his body was straight as a bow. It was scary that how big he was, he could just use his bare hands to tear him apart like he was no different from a toothpick. But minutes later, as soon as he finally got what really comforted him-the smell-, Jaskier stopped scaring himself with the details.

"Would you like something to drink?''

''Please.''

Without saying anything else the witcher went to his bags. With quiet steps, Jaskier approached him a little, careful to distance himself from the man. When the witcher handed him his flask, Jaskier grasping it with both hands and carefully drink it with slow sips, he also watched the alpha dress with out of his eye. Molded with deadly agility, even if his body was hidden under the clothes it was not enough to hide his size in any way.

As the witcher tucked the long remaining parts of his tunic into his pants, Jaskier stopped drinking the water, trying to turn his gaze anywhere but him. And when he finally managed to secure his eyes to the ground, he handed back the flask.

"Thank you, master witch-"

"Geralt." The witcher said. Jaskier looked at him dumbfounded when the man took the flask from him. The alpha repeated with a sigh. "My name. It’s Geralt. You can call me by my name.''

"Oh-but, are you sure? Wouldn't this be rude?''

''No.''

"Well, Master wit-no, no. Sorry, habit. Master Geralt-"

"Don't use the master.''

"Sir Geralt?''

"Just Geralt.''

''But-''

"Get to the point, Jaskier.''

It felt strange to hear his name from the witcher- _Geralt's_ mouth, but it was a good kind of weirdness. It’s like his entire body had been caressed with an imaginary hand. Trying to suppress his chill, he straightened his shoulders and tried to place a small, warm smile on his face.

"Thank you for saving me... Geralt." Geralt's expressionless face seemed to change for a moment, but it happened so quickly that Jaskier could not even understand what emotion had passed. Jaskier hesitantly asked his other question, which was on his mind, after the man issued a grumble indicating that he had accepted his thanks. "How many days have I been unconscious?''

"Two weeks. You almost died.''

Jaskier's eyes grew wide in horror.

"What?!''

"The wound on your neck," When the witcher's gaze landed on his neck, Jaskier involuntarily hold his breath and touched the wound with his fingertips. Geralt's gaze darkened. "The bite made your condition worse. Your body was-no _is_ so weak, your protein and fat levels are too low to keep you alive and because of this, the bite almost killed you. Also," The alpha remained silent for a while when his golden eyes were turned to him again. Jaskier can see that he wants to continue his words, but something seemed to hold him back.

Jaskier wrapped his arms around his midsection to console himself a little. He didn't want to look like half-dead, he also wanted his bones not to be visible, his stomach to look normal and his skin to look alive rather than a diseased white. But during the time he was held by Henrick’s side, he was given so limited food that he was sure that his stomach would no longer take a portion that a normal person could eat, and it hurt. He was even more faint than a ghost. Maybe the only thing that stood out was that he played music, but it was also taken away from him. He had nothing to describe himself. The feeling of being lost suddenly shook him hard. He had lost so many parts that he didn't know how to make himself feel like a whole again, how to be normal.

"Also," Geralt frowned when he saw his eyes were shining with tears, breaking the silence with his gruff voice. "Also, when a soulmate close to the other and bitten by someone else, especially when they are someone they don't want, their bodies can give an unusual response. Like fever, vomiting, progressive weakness. It was the biggest factor that made your recovery difficult.''

Oh.

 _Oh_.

He knew.

As tears began to flow down his cheeks, Jaskier staggered backwards. _He knew._ He knew he was his soulmate. He was sure that the alpha felt cursed, because he was the mate of a broken omega how he could not? He had no small value. Jaskier was very lucky to be the mate of such a wild, powerful man, but what about him? His mate? He should have considered himself lucky, the witcher was even made an effort to look at his face right now.

Contrary to rumors, the witcher was a really good man, even though he knew he was his soul mate, he took care of him and kept him alive. He could have left him to death. Jaskier sobbed, tried to stop his tear with pitiful attempts. He'd love to be able to express himself in a more calm and controlled way, but under the weight of his thoughts, he once again lost all control.

"I'm sorry, Master witcher. I'm sorry. I am so sorry.''

Geralt's grey eyebrows furrowed more, an expression crossed on his handsome face that Jaskier could call anxious.

"Why are you apologizing?''

"I'm your soulmate. I—Gods... You must be ashamed of me. I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen. You must hate me. Ah-I can go, ugh—I can pay my debt-"

"Jaskier," Witcher ending his rambling harshly, looked at him with a serious face. "Why do you think that I'm ashamed of you?''

Jaskier looked at the alpha with confused eyes. Anyone who looked at him could tell instantly what the problem was.

"Isn't everything clear?" Jaskier bowed his head, shame evident in his voice. "Look at me, Master witcher.''

"I’m looking, and I don't see any reason why I should be ashamed or hated by you.''

"But— You don't uderstand.''

"It's stupid to hate you for a reason you can't help. Yeah, it's true that you look weaker than a fly." His honest words quickened Jaskier's tears. "But you have a much braver, stronger heart than anyone I ever know. You're a very strong person, Jaskier.''

"How can you know that? You don't even know me." He wanted his voice to sound stern, but it didn't go beyond sounding like a pathetic buzz in his ear. Geralt's face softened.

"You said some things on the days when you had a very high fever.’’

‘’No." Jaskier started walking backwards. ‘’No.’’

‘‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to violate your privacy.’’

Jaskier couldn't hiccup. He couldn’t even make a sound.

‘’How much do you know?’’

‘‘A little." witcher said honestly.

‘‘How much _a little_?’’

"I don't think you're ready to hear the answer to that question.’’

Jaskier shivered. As he tried to go backwards, his feet got tangled together and he fell to the ground. And when the witcher tried to approach him, he began to crawl. If he knows his past-if he knows what he's been through-Oh gods, it can't be, _it can't be-_

"Jaskier calm down, please.’’

‘’I...Ugh, I can’t. I can't-’

‘’Yes you can and you will. **_Focus on my voice and take a deep breath._** ’’

Jaskier felt his lungs burn.

"Witc- _Geralt_ , it hurts.’’

Witcher's face softened even more. Crouching a little away from him, he made his body less threatening and put his hands on his knees, making eye contact with him directly.

_**"Because you're having trouble at breathing. Look at me, watch me breathe. See how my chest rises? Good, now do what I do. Breathe in, breathe out. İn, out. Yes, you're doing fine, Jaskier. Good. That’s good.’’** _

‘’It still hurts.’’

_**‘’It will pass. I didn't tell you to stop, keep breathing omega. Just like that.’’** _

Jaskier lost the concept of time while focusing on Geralt's voice. The sound and smell of the alpha began to rescue him from the clutches of the panic and fear duo he felt and calm his mind. When With a poor attempt, Jaskier tried to stop his tears and his flowing nose, the witcher also reached out to h,m with one hand to help. As soon as his hand came to his view, Jaskier tried to protect himself by shrinking on his spot rather than letting him to touch his face.

He knew this man wouldn't hurt him. After all if the witcher wanted to, he wouldn't have tried to help him in the first place, he'd have let Henrick's men take him away. Although he realized that Geralt was a good man, the constant fear he felt didn’t let his body to relax.

‘’I'm sorry."Jaskier tried to make himself small as much as possible by hugging his legs a little more. Maybe his petite height would work for once. "I'm sorry, Geralt.’’  
"I said there was nothing to apologize for. If anyone here should apologize it's me, not you.’’

"Wh-What?" When Jaskier raised his head to look at him with confusion, his eyes immediately locked with Geralt’s golden ones. ‘‘Why? You didn’t do anything.’’

Geralt frowned, but this time he didn't have a stern look on his face, it’s more like... Like he looked sad. But why? He had saved his pathetic life twice in a short time. First he saved him from Henrick's men, and then he took care of his wounds, ensuring that he survived. He had a huge debt that he could never pay him, and despite all this, the witcher apologized to him?

‘’I let you down.’’

‘‘What?" Jaskier looked at witcher in pure astonishment. ‘’No, no, no. Sir-mister, ah sorry, Geralt-‘’

"I knew for a very long time that you was my soul mate, but I chose to ignore your presence. My kind is alone, we kill monsters, take our money and move on. People don't like us, and a small group of bravish people try to drive us out of their town with everything they have. So in short, my life is not suitable for an omega. And you were a nobleman, and there was nothing I could give you.’’

"Geralt-‘’

"Insults, threats, coming face to face with monsters every day, these are the things I'm used to. As I said, people don't like witchers, especially nobles. It was impossible for you to stay with me, as I couldn't stay with you. People could have tried to reach you because they couldn't hurt me directly-‘’

"Geralt, _please_ -‘’

"I didn't want you to get hurt because of me.’’

"Geralt-‘’

"But now I see that maybe if I'd managed to get my head out of my ass sooner, I might have saved you from that damn hell. My side may be the last place on earth that can be considered safe, but at least you'd be under my protection. They couldn't hurt you." When he said that, his eyes went down to the wound on his neck. "I'm sorry I got you too late, Jaskier.’’

Jaskier babbled at first. He didn't know what he was saying, his mouth was just moving. Then he swallowed his spit and tried again. When he realized that his mouth was still moving, he then noticed that he wasn't actually babbling, he was sobbing.

‘’Don’t apologize." He said, his damaged voice scratching his ears. ‘‘You didn't know. Don’t apologize. What happened to me is none your fault.’’

"Jaskier.’’

‘‘Can you touch me?’’

The question caused Geralt to sound like a wounded animal. With a comical hesitation compared to his indestructible body, he extended one hand towards him and immediately Jaskier held onto him with both hands and continued to cry, leaning his face against the wide mass of muscles. As his hiccups came out, shaking his entire body something seemed to loosen inside him. His emotions were coming like a flood, and even if he wanted to stop himself he couldn’t. He knew that he couldn’t stop himself when his emotions shook his entire body, melted his thoughts and turned him into puddle. He had already experienced it half an hour ago.

Jaskier held on to him more tightly when Geralt with a hint of uncertainty, began to pat his back with his free hand. The contact was more emotional than painful, his touch was really sincere and gentle, it was clear that his intention was to help him, and it felt really nice. Jaskier was still a bit scared because he was so close to him, but being comforted felt more overwhelming than his fear.

So he stayed.

Although the tears drenched the man's arm, the witcher did not make a sound, and as he continued to pat him with the same kindness, Jaskier's sobs slowly began to turn into muted sighs. He felt strangely light, his brain empty. Maybe he cried so much that it blocked his sinusitis, preventing him from thinking. Whatever the reason, Jaskier was happy, still distraught, but at the same time feeling peaceful.

Even though he had just woken up, when his eyelids felt heavy and began to close automatically, the witcher leaned his body against his chest and stroked his hair. His voice sounded nothing more than a whisper.

"Sleep little sun, I'll be here when you wake up.’’

And Jaskier fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jaskier, Geralt is look like Letho (he's that huge for him) and for Geralt, Jaskier is like a skittish little kitten. I hope you liked the chapter! Please let me know your thoughts :3


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